Oblivion
by Neuronerd
Summary: Fourth installment to the Out of Time series. Dr. Collins has fallen into place on the Enterprise, but she's quickly finding out McCoy was right- space is a dark, lonely, and dangerous place. Everyone present and accounted for, although a little more McCoy concentric than the others. Rating for adult innuendo, drug use, and some Bones!whump
1. Time Flies

**A/N: I can't believe it's been 10 years since I wrote the initial Out of Time trilogy, but here we are. It's sad to think that we may never get another Trek movie, or at least not as we know it in no small part due to the passing of one of our favorite crew members: Anton. Nonetheless, he will continue to live on in our hearts and in FF land. So for this anniversary and in his honor may we all raise a shot of vodka to the sky and take one more voyage into the stars.**

**Chapter 1- Time Flies**

Time is indeed a relative thing as Einstein tried to warn us all it was. If ever I wondered about space induced psychosis, I wondered no more. There was a time when simply the thought of being in space was an awe inspiring and humbling experience and to some degree it still was. But if familiarity bred contempt, I had the best teacher there ever was in McCoy. As much as I hated to admit it, I was starting to come around to his point of view regarding the downsides of not being on terra firma. Space was mind boggling huge. It seemed to be a vast canvas of darkness that stretched to infinity in all directions and no matter how far or fast we traveled, we never seemed to go anywhere worth being. Of course we knew, or at least hoped, that the uncharted deepest darkest corners held some kind of life. To think otherwise would have made the mission crushingly futile, but as the days passed into weeks it became less clear what was worse: potentially running into a hostile band of aliens who have never heard of the Federation and viewed us as unwelcome interlopers, or the relentless ongoing monotonous nothingness. The overall mood on the ship sunk into an uncomfortable toxic mix of boredom of not finding anything but mild paranoia we just might.

While McCoy perpetually inhabited a world of irritability, it was largely fueled by internal anxiety about what might happen or a perceived sense of lack of control rather than boredom, so he didn't seem to be as bothered by it all. In fact, the less action the better in his estimation so in that regard he had been comparatively chipper as of late. As long as we remained adrift and unnoticed we were relatively safe he was fond of reminding me and anyone else who dare grouse about the current state of affairs. As far as he was concerned, things were finally going his way for once. "Yep," he sighed laying his head back as he swiveled listlessly in his chair at his desk, "nice and quiet. It doesn't get any better than this. No decks on fire, no people running around missing limbs they woke up with this morning, no pandemics of some previously unknown disease to run rampant on the ship." He stopped to smirk at the ceiling as though he could peer through the ship's decking all the way up to the bridge. "More importantly, nothing in range for Jim to get into. As long as we don't encounter anything he can interact with in any way we'll be fine."

I smiled at his uncharacteristic optimism and slyly asked, "Are you sure about that?"

He rolled his head in my direction with a scowl. "Not really, but I'm not taking any chances either. I finished supply inventory days ago, but I'm afraid to send the paperwork up to him to sign because somehow he'll probably manage to nearly sever his hand by paper cut. Not because he's an idiot mind you, but he'd do it just to irritate me." He grumbled. "Which I guess does kind of make him an idiot." He added with a slightly arched eyebrow.

"He's just trying to look out for you as best he knows how." I nearly sighed staring blankly at my computer. Functionally speaking, I was a department of one with no real inventory or employees to manage, so my work essentially amounted to the timely updating of medical charts when needed and because I had always been something of a zero inbox kind of person, notes always got done immediately.

The prolonged downtime did afford me a bit more time to make rounds and I found people were more willing to talk to me in my now official capacity even if just for the novelty of it all, including McCoy who one night after a little liquid courage and much discussion came to the conclusion that maybe- _just maybe_\- he might do well by himself and others to try to curb his surliness a bit which came as a surprise to me and no doubt would be a relief of others if he could master his impulses. While I was certainly supportive of his self-chosen goal it was just a little vindicating when he found the actual work it took to be much more than he expected. He went in assuming it would be as easy as flipping a switch in his head, but he was finding out there was more to my side of the professional fence than cheerleading. It was in reality every bit as complex as his profession could be because I had to suture mental wounds I couldn't actually see with threads I couldn't touch, but the majority of success ultimately depended on the patient themselves. As far as I knew, none of his patients had to stuff their own organs back in or try to help him out by just concentrating real hard to manufacture lost blood in a hurry. The more I thought about it the more unfair it all seemed.

He snorted indignantly and neatly folded his hands behind his head as though he were being held hostage. "With friends like that who needs enemies?" Despite the bitterness in his voice I knew he couldn't really argue the point and judging by the small grin that slowly arched its way across his face he knew it too. After a few minutes of silence there was an abrupt change in his demeanor and turned slightly in his chair to face me. "How's your side been?"

I was somewhat surprised since he hadn't asked about it in quite some time and honestly, I hadn't thought much about it either. Time is a relative thing and although it had only been about three months, the events that took place on the Raven and Jim's wrathful obliteration of Saren seemed like ages ago. "Ok, I guess." I replied shifting in my seat, now acutely aware of the old injury.

His eyes caught fire and narrowed and I just knew what that meant. "Wanna try that again?" He asked pointedly.

I looked down at my desk doomed. I knew it really didn't matter what I said from here on out because he already made up his mind, but I still felt compelled to try to explain myself even if it was futile. "It's mostly fine, but…" He cocked his head slightly and his lips drew into a tight line as though he just knew the next words would contain at least some part of a lie, so I thought I should choose them carefully. I gave him a sincere look and reiterated, "It is, really. I can eat normally and everything."

"But?" He asked trying valiantly but not quite succeeding to keep the irritation he no doubt felt at bay and out of his tone. Then again, he was never very good at such things but I at least appreciated the effort.

I gave him a small conciliatory smile to try to put him at ease. "But, there are times when it feels like something is pulling, like things are glued in the wrong places. It hurts sometimes, but nothing too bad." I couldn't help but chuckle with a dark sense of humor. "I've certainly had worse."

He tried to scowl at me like a wayward child, but in the end he couldn't hold out and gave me a wry grin. If anyone could appreciate gallows humor it was certainly him. He rose from his chair and from the sickbay I could hear him rummaging through a cart and mumbling something about the flesh being like hamburger before he reappeared holding one of his medical contraptions and motioned for me to lift my shirt. He looked like he was concentrating as he squatted beside me and scanned the fading mass of pink scars, but that didn't stop him from going on in a business like tone Spock could appreciate as he worked. "The body's real good at tryin' to patch itself together," he hummed in his southern drawl that sometimes slipped through either when he wasn't paying strict attention or because he knew I found it endearing, "but it's not too smart about how it goes about it. It doesn't care about what's what so long as the gaping hole to the outside world's closed and that," he paused to glance at the screen with a resigned expression, "is what happened here."

He fiddled with the settings some before resuming and this time it burned and stung, but I bit my lip and kept telling myself it was only temporary while trying to breathe normally. He glanced up at me and I could tell by his expression he knew I was in some discomfort, but he also likely knew I would refuse pain medication if he offered so he opted to just keep working, albeit with a little more expediency than before. "Scar tissue is like a rubber band," he explained, "there's some flex to it, but not much and it sticks to whatever it can to hold things together. In your case it's stringing together muscle to organs and parts of skin too far away from the endpoints in a tangled web." He stopped briefly to give me a break and watched with slightly soft and sympathetic eyes as if to apologize that this was the only means he had to repair the damage until he felt I could go on. "So the challenge," he continued with a greater degree of concentration and determined voice, "is to sever the excess lines while leaving the essential ones intact." He frowned slightly and muttered in a way so as it make it seem like he was talking to himself more so than me. "I just need to cut enough to let you move freely but not too much so you come undone again."

"Yeah," I panted gripping the sides of the chair in an effort to quell the pain I knew was inevitable yet necessary, "that sounds really important. Maybe you should just focus on that for now." The last thing I needed or wanted was for him to accidentally snip the wrong thing and have my liver floating free in my abdomen.

He glanced up to give me a quick, reassuring smile as if to let me know this was a relatively easy challenge for him and I knew it to be true. I've watched him deal with far worse under much more dire circumstances with fewer supplies and even less time to do it before, so I knew I was in good hands. He probably could've performed the procedure in his sleep, but if he was to experience any type of excitement this was how he preferred it- on his terms and without being under fire literally or figuratively. Time is relative and after what seemed an eternity, he sat back on his heels with a guarded expression. "That should do it." He proclaimed with a tight nod.

I tried not to let the pain and exhaustion show as I weakly smiled with great relief. "Thanks, Dr. McCoy." I said a little more breathlessly than I intended.

A wicked grin slowly formed as he looked at me suspiciously and said in a low purr, "I've heard that before, but in a very different context."

I was both stunned and amused by his momentary lapse of professionalism. No matter how much time had passed or how comfortable we became with our arrangement, rules were rules and were meant to keep the personal from blurring into the professional. We promised Jim and Spock we wouldn't let our feelings for one another interfere with our duties and while Jim generally didn't give a damn so long as we didn't try out the Kama Sutra in a very public space, Spock very much did. It wasn't so much he cared about our day to day respective happiness or displeasure or if things were going good or bad in the relationship the way Jim did. He was happy to stay out of things as long as we didn't somehow make it his problem to deal with. He just wanted things that pertained to him to run smoothly and didn't want to know about things that didn't and I had to respect him for that kind of straightforward no drama simplicity. "We're on the clock, remember?" I gently reminded him.

He waved me off and slowly nodded in agreement, but didn't bother to wipe the self-satisfied smirk off his face as he ambled back into sickbay to put his toy away. I absentmindedly rubbed the newly rearranged and still sore patch of flesh just below my ribs and shook my head. No doubt the staff would be bewildered by the perpetual frown turned upside down and I was sure it wouldn't be long before I had to field questions and squash rumors regarding the sudden change in his mental health.

_He's not suffering from any type of psychosis, just a distinct lack of self-esteem issues today. _


	2. Surprises

**Chapter 2- Surprises**

From the looks of things, I wasn't the only one suffering from lack of excitement. The dinner table, typically a fairly lively place, seemed more like a funeral wake. Morose faces passively took in unappealing plates of replicated food that was only half-heartedly stabbed at and even less often actually eaten. Attempts at casual conversation died quickly for lack of participation and humor had become almost entirely a theoretical construct. Things had become so droll even Spock joined us once in awhile. It was my theory the table was usually too boisterous for him, but people quietly engaged in a necessary action and not really making eye contact while doing it was certainly more in his comfort zone. If there was anyone on board aside from McCoy that wasn't at all bothered by the new status quo it was Spock. This was his utopia.

Pavel rested his head in his hand and poked listlessly at his food, moving it around the plate as kids who are told to eat their peas do and I found it somewhat endearing. He was trying his best to make a show of it even if his heart and by extension stomach wasn't really into it. But then unexpectedly he picked his head up and smiled faintly. "I thought I saw something on screen today." He announced in a hopeful tone to the table. Obviously everyone knew it was nothing because if it had been something the ship probably would've gone on red alert in all the excitement, but he pressed on just as if their bored faces were rapt with attention. "It looked like a small planet or maybe a ship of some kind."

Scotty rolled his eyes and huffed. "How the hell do ya' mix up a ship for a planet?" He asked somewhat indignantly. "Either it's a ship or it's a bloody planet. Not really any planet sized ships or ship sized planets out there, lad." He groused.

Sulu paused to think for a moment before stating, "No, but I think it would depend on distance. A relatively close up ship can look like a far away planet."

"Aye, if ships were shaped like bowling balls, but need ah remind ya' that's not very aerodynamic now is it?" He asked irritably.

Sulu calmly held his gaze and in a measured voice responded, "Aerodynamics really only matter in gravity bound situations. In space there is little resistance, so ships can be shaped however they are designed to be. It only becomes a problem if they have to land somewhere rather than remain in orbit."

Scotty blinked slowly and shook his head. "Ya' don't need to explain physics to me, I'm a bloody engineer! Ah know how ships fly."

"And I fly them." He said simply holding his ground.

"Ok," I sighed, trying to understand how a simple observation devolved into a standoff over universal laws of motion, "I think we got a little off track here. Pavel, you said you thought you saw something, so what was it?"

He seemed surprised that anyone actually cared and he shrugged nonchalantly. "It vas a speck of dust on the sensor lens." He replied in a despondent tone. "But it did take about 30 minutes to find vich one and clean it, so that vas something I guess." It was like watching a crack slowly spread across a dam before it broke. The level of absurdity was just too much and one by one small smiles turned into giggles which evolved into full blown laughs. Pavel's face turned a light shade of pink and he suppressed his laugh as though he knew all along exactly what he was doing and he was proud of himself that we all fell for it. I was impressed.

"What's this?" Came Jim's voice from across the cafeteria as he made his way to the table with his usual confident swagger. "We can't have any mirth here. There's no fun to be had in Starfleet!"

"Plotting your mutiny." Uhura smiled bitterly as she took a bite of her salad now that the mood had shifted to something more pleasant.

Jim nodded and sighed in a defeated tone that had just a sad glimmer of honesty. "Well, I suppose I had it coming."

"Now hold on a minute," Scotty suggested with a squint, "if we take out the captain that means Spock's up an ah think we better ask ourselves if that's really a brilliant plan."

"If we can pull off one mutiny, why not two?" I asked playing along. "In for a penny in for a pound at that point, really."

"Oh no." Scotty declared emphatically. "No. That means then it's me and bugger that." He dismissed with a wave of his hand.

"And then Dr. McCoy." Chekov sighed hopelessly into his plate. Despite what even McCoy thought of his own abilities, I thought he did a fine job on the Raven when his back was against the wall and he had no other options. He certainly wasn't the type of person to seek out leadership beyond his kingdom on deck 5, but he wasn't half bad at it when he had to be. But as with many things he did behind the scenes, the others at the table didn't know about it or at least in any amount of detail that might net him some recognition beyond Jim of course, but even then he probably issued one of his trademark threats to keep his lips zipped.

Sulu pursed his lips and shook his head thoughtfully. "Yeah guys, I think we better call it all off." He concluded. "None of our options are all that good."

"Hurray!" Jim smiled sarcastically. "It's good to know you only keep me around 'cause you think everyone else is worse. I mean, I came down here to tell you all I had a surprise for you, but now?" He asked in a hesitant tone squinting and scratching the back of his neck.

"Surprise?" Pavel asked perking up. "I like surprises. Now always, but now yes."

"Are you sure?" Jim prompted, blue eyes twinkling with mischief. He was dragging this out on purpose just to watch them squirm a bit for their insolence. "I mean, I dunno…"

"What." Sulu stated with a forced smile. "Is the surprise?" He was typically a patient person, but this was starting to become all too much for him.

"Ok, well since we have so much free time…" he started in a lilting tone to suggest something big was coming, "I thought you could all scrub the ship from top to bottom!" He smiled enthusiastically but was met with a sea of blank faces. "C'mon guys!" He encouraged. "It will probably be the cleanest this ship's been since it was hosed down after we escorted the Klingons. Remember that?" When everyone continued to sit staring at him speechless he added, "Good times, right?"

Uhura curtly looked away from him and back to the table. "So about that mutiny…"

Jim laughed and his smile warmed into something more genuine. "Ok, just kidding. Seriously though, I do have a surprise." He leaned on the table and he grinned so wide I thought I'd have to call McCoy to sew his cheeks back together. "We found something."

Sulu's face was priceless. I could tell he wanted so badly to believe, but he was nothing if not a cautious optimist and I watched as he swallowed and composed himself. In a voice that was a mix of dread and hopefulness he quietly asked, "It's not more dust is it?"

"No, Mr. Sulu." Jim proclaimed emphatically as he stood and crossed his arms. "It's still a ways off, but preliminary scans show at least some water and plant life. We aren't close enough yet, but soon we'll know if it's inhabited."

"How soon?" Scotty asked suddenly on pins and needles. "Are we warpin' over there?" He may have tried to act like he didn't care, but he was clearly excited for the prospect of something to do.

"No." He sighed letting his arms fall to his sides as though he were a child who was told they couldn't have dessert before dinner. "Spock said we should hold our course. If we go in hell bent and it turns out it's inhabited then they might take that as a threat. Besides, he said it will give us time to gather more information."

"Vell, ve can't argue that." Chekov reluctantly agreed even if he wasn't necessarily happy with the plan either. "It's hard to scan vhile at varp speed. The things you measure are past before you get the transmission back."

As usual, Spock's logic was irrefutable so like it or not, we were looking at a slow gallop toward the only action anyone had seen in weeks and we were just going to have to learn to live with it. Still, it was like having a scratch you were forbidden to itch and it was maddening for all involved. "So how long then?" I asked intrigued.

"Two or three days." Jim shrugged. "Since we know there's plants down there, Mr. Sulu, how would you like to go down?"

Jim barely got the words out of his mouth before Sulu nearly shouted, "Yes!" He paused to regain his composure and gave a more measured, "Yes, Sir. I would like that." He stopped to swallow and add, "Very much, actually."

Jim was never one to get hung up on protocol and he smiled broadly as he gave his pilot a clap on the shoulder. "Thought you might. Uhura, if there's sentient life down there odds are they won't speak our language so we'll obviously need you as well." He paused to look at me with a sorry-not-sorry expression and as he turned to go he mumbled over his shoulder, "Hopefully we won't need you or McCoy, but we'll see." I didn't take offense. There were very few occupations in which being unnecessary was the goal and in our lines of work being needed was never a good thing.

Pavel resumed his mindless food shuffle and sullenly mumbled, "So I guess I vatch from the bridge. No need for a navigator on an unknown planet I suppose."

Scotty reached across the table to give him a pat on the arm. "Ya' don't know that. We're still far out yet an' everyone knows the captain never has a whole plan until the minute before."

"If that." Uhura agreed. "He didn't say if commander Spock was going either, so like Scotty said it's too early to count your chickens."

"Aye he will, he's the science officer! An that means I'll be stuck runnin' things." He grumbled covering his hands with his face in resignation. "An before ya' say it, Ah can't delegate to Dr. McCoy because for one he'd tell me to go arse myself, but we all bloody know he'll end up goin' down there anyway and I'm back where ah started. I don't know why he just doesn't stand by the pad with bag in hand ready to jump 'cause we all know it's gonna happen. All but him ah guess."

I laughed lightly. "Oh, he knows. He just always holds out hope that maybe just once he won't need to." That, and his general mistrust and loathing of transporters... "Which reminds me, I'll need to head back down and deliver the good news. He'll need that time to prep like we're going into battle."

"Well, at least that's one messenger he won't shoot." Uhura remarked into her cup of tea.

"Yeah, I'm trying to earn my keep around here." I shrugged carelessly heading for the lifts toward the challenge that awaited me.

"Aye, and worth your weight in gold!" Scotty yelled as the rest of the table again erupted in casual laughter. Even though for the most part people on the ship accepted me in my role as counselor, by far my most valuable asset was as mediator due to my near immunity to McCoy's sharp glares and even sharper tongue, and the less others had to deal with him directly the better in their eyes. What they didn't know was he largely felt the same so in the end it was as Jim would say a win-win for all.


	3. Forward Progress

**Chapter 3- Forward Progress**

McCoy was as predictable as the tides and his moods were sometimes just as turbulent. After I gingerly broke the news to him that his respite may be placed into question, the array of expressions that morphed across his face were reflective of his inner world and each one grew progressively darker. First there was blank disbelief followed by a brief flash of hot anger which eventually settled down into sullen paranoia. How quickly he moved through the stages was sometimes indicative of how much of a fuss there would be, and thankfully the forecast on this occasion was fair. I wasn't sure if it was the advanced warning or the messenger that made a difference, but in the end it really didn't matter. He had enough time to prepare, yet there was just enough unknown about the impending situation that made him a bit more agitated than usual because prepare for what exactly he wasn't sure.

I sat at my desk and watched while he rummaged through the drawers of his aimlessly as he was wont to do when he had nothing but time and anxious rumination on his hands. I was thankful when I noticed Spock darken the doorstep with a curt nod in my direction. "Dr. Collins." He greeted in his usual dispassionate tone before turning to McCoy. "You wished to speak to me, doctor?"

"Wish is a pretty strong word, but I guess it's what we got." He grumbled casually tossing a drawer closed. "What's this about Jim putting together an away team?" Bless his little heart as people from his home in the South may say. He tried to sound nonchalant, but it really did come out more accusatory as though the universe plotted against him and everyone on the bridge was complicit. Then again, it wasn't like his fears had no basis in reality because that group was a wiley one and had proven before they weren't above such shenanigans.

Spock clasped his hands behind his back and looked vaguely confused. "The captain has located a planet that we will by necessity send a team to upon arrival if it is deemed safe to do so." His tone was slightly lilting as though he couldn't comprehend why he was being forced to explain to a grown adult why they should always wear pants in public. Such a thing just seemed to go without saying.

"Necessity." McCoy huffed rolling his eyes.

"Yes, doctor." Spock confirmed in a flat tone as though he didn't appreciate being called down to play word games. "I believe that is our mission and we are wholly unable to fulfill that mission by remaining onboard. Doubly so if the planet contains life that we are to contact if not in violation of the prime directive."

"Can we just cut to the chase and pretend they aren't?" He asked with a squint.

"Statistically, they may not be in which case this discussion is unnecessary. Doctor, was there a point to this meeting?" He asked somewhat tersely. "If the sole purpose was for you to voice your displeasure then it will be noted."

McCoy's eyes narrowed and he slowly leaned across his desk. "Can we make that a standing notation?" He asked slowly in a sarcastic snarl. "I called you down here because I need information, man! I have, for whatever reason, been left out of the loop down here and all I'm askin' for is maybe just a little hint as to what I'm starin' down the barrel of." He growled impatiently. He was starting to drop the endings of words and I started to worry.

Spock seemed to relax just a bit at the notion his time wasn't being wasted after all. "At this moment all we have is uncertainty, both to the planet's composition and why this hasn't been properly communicated to you. As we learn more I will of course ensure your inclusion so you can ready your department as you see fit." Although his voice and posture were neutral, his dark eyes looked as though they were asking why he had to again state the bleeding obvious.

"Thank you." McCoy said sweetly through a disingenuous smile. "All I ask is you guys up there not leave me out like I'm the ugly girl at the dance." Spock paused momentarily as though he had more to say, but apparently thought better of it and returned to whatever he felt was more important than the meeting. After he left, McCoy just couldn't help himself and hissed, "Pointy eared bastard."

I got up from my seat with a knowing smile and positioned myself behind him to lightly massage his shoulders. "Breathe, McCoy." I encouraged. "Remember what we talked about. Calm. In through the nose, out through the mouth."

He glanced up at me still mildly irritated. "I was calm until he got here." He stated matter of factly.

I stopped and gave him a 'shame on you' look. "We both know that's not quite true. There's no use in being angry with Spock when all he did was come down here like you asked him to and answer your questions to the best of his ability, right?" He gave a playfully pouty expression but I wasn't going to let him off that easy. "Right?" I pressed.

He looked back to his desk with a heavy sigh as though he couldn't believe I was actually going to hold him to his word. "If I say yes, do I get more massage time? Because if I do, I'll say anything you want to hear, darlin'." He admitted laying on the accent fairly thick without a shred of shame about any of it. He cocked an eyebrow conspiratorially and continued, "You know, in some ways I might get a notion to get angry just to get this. So really, you're reinforcing my bad behavior." He shrugged and gave a careless wave before noting, "I'm starting to think this whole behavior modification thing may not work on me."

"McCoy." I warned him. "You were the one that asked me to help with your temper and sometimes that means I have to be the bad guy and make you take your medicine. Usually that's you, but today it's me." I said quietly working on his tense muscles. "And you certainly aren't the first to think you can try to outsmart me or manipulate to get what you want. What was it you called me? Ninja queen?" I mused rhetorically before settling back down into a more business like tone to cue him to get to work. "What's the rule?" I patiently prompted.

He paused before begrudgingly reciting, "It's ok to be angry if it's warranted."

"So was it?" I asked softly. McCoy was certainly a tough nut to crack, but he was also a man of his word. He set a goal for himself of trying to be less angry because that only led to bad moods, things being said he didn't mean, and physical stress that he could live without. It was a constant work in progress but at least he was trying to be a better version of himself.

"No." He conceded with a weary sigh as he rubbed his face in frustration. It really was hard for him not to lapse into bad habits and he wasn't a man that took failure well.

The goal was never to make one feel bad about poor or rash decisions. The truth was, everyone made bad choices, but the real work was in trying to reprogram the brain to stop reflexively making them in the future which was considerably harder once that highway was already as paved and well traveled as it was for him. If the road to perdition for others was a highway McCoy had a bullet train, but he was trying to learn to slow it down at least a little.

"Ok," I said breezily as though it were no big deal and began gently kneading out the knots down his spine, "Then where does the anger belong if not Spock?"

"Me." He muttered miserably. "Too many of these trips have gone to hell in a handbasket before and I'm worried I won't know how to fix it when it all goes wrong at the speed of light." It took a lot of courage for him to admit to his deepest fears and at least a small part of me felt honored. It took awhile for him to get there, but eventually as I entrusted him with my bodily injuries great and small and followed his medical advice, he finally came around to the idea of allowing me to do the same for his mental health.

"And?" I asked running my fingers down the length of his back from his shoulders to his waist, trying my best to use just the right amount of pressure so as to make them release tension without being too painful.

He paused to take a deep breath as instructed and concluded, "And I can't change it so I have to either live with it or let it go." He threw his hands up in a helpless gesture. "It's the goddamn Maru all over again."

"You know you don't have to be perfectly happy with either option, you just have to be minimally ok with one." I gently reminded him. After a few moments of reflective silence, I laughed lightly. "I chose to let them die by the way." He slowly turned his head to give me a horrified look and I reached up to straighten it again. "We all make choices, some perhaps better than others." I sighed.

"Well, that's not the choice you made when it mattered." He mumbled quietly alluding to the Raven and her crew. "You saved those people's lives." He paused for just a second and added in a barely audible tone, "And mine."

He knew I didn't like to talk about it, so I brushed it off with a chipper "And you're still up what? 3 to 1?" I used my thumbs to press deeply into his neck muscles in a circular motion, but as usual I was at least a little distracted by the faint scar that lingered there like a ghost that haunted me oddly more so than him. Then again, he felt the same about my side. It was funny how we both felt more pain from the scars on each other's bodies than we did our own. Maybe it was closer to 3-2, but in any case he was still ahead. I bent down to give him a small kiss on his temple and softly whispered into his ear, "Well done today, Leonard. I'm proud of you."

Despite his attempt at reverse psychology, the fact that I could use physical manipulation to help me was no small boon. By giving him some physical good to focus on he could better do the mental work to deal with the bad, sort of like taking a teaspoon of sugar to help the medicine go down. It certainly wasn't a technique I could use on just anyone least I find myself court marshaled for harassment, but he was no ordinary patient and I was reasonably sure given our after hours association I could get away with it. And in the end, being the pragmatist I was, it just worked remarkably well on him.

People naturally have varying degrees of tolerance for touch, some innate and some of it learned behavior depending on positive or negative experience. He seemed to be somewhere in the middle taking it all as being generally neutral at best. He wasn't nearly as hands off as Spock, but he also didn't seem to be more than mildly irritated with Jim's occasional rough slaps on the back of playful punches when he knew he had space to run before McCoy could retaliate. But then again, I remembered how strangely ok he seemed with letting a young nephew he'd never met climb all over him and it made me wonder if his ambivalence had any connection to his profession. As a surgeon he was always touching others, but there really was no occasion for others to ever touch him and while it was understandable why others may think twice about attempting it, it was still a little sad. So much research pointed to the fact that social animals like humans thrived on it and lack of it led to anxiety, depression, irritability, and in some cases psychosis. Conversely, with access to even casual contact came higher tolerance to pain and faster healing from illness and injury, things he no doubt knew from his side of the professional fence.

He placed his hand over mine on his shoulder and smiled faintly. His olive eyes secretly thanked me for the personal and private commendation and I knew it wasn't easy for him. Then again change rarely was and it wasn't like he hadn't had a lifetime of negative reinforcement to shake including his family which, aside from his sister, still stubbornly refused to speak to him and then there was his ex-wife. At least things between the two of them had cooled to just below boiling as of late which was a vast improvement, but all in all he had come to expect to be kicked in the teeth at every turn. Sometimes he deserved it, but most times he didn't and it was this that kept Jim's warning to me front and center in my mind.

I had no delusions. McCoy would always be who he always was and in some ways it was adaptive to his work and the crushing responsibility of literally being the split second difference between life and death. It didn't help that he was always on call so he was perpetually on the lookout for the next piece of sky to fall, but for his own sanity and those around him he had to learn to turn it off once in awhile. He was indeed trying and it was moments like this, precious seconds when he was completely in the present and relaxed, that I got to glimpse who he was at his core. Those small spaces of time were as close as he'd probably ever come to being truly happy and I wanted more of that for him than anything.


	4. Birthday Party

**Chapter 4- Birthday Party**

Even though we were arriving to the unknown planet too soon in McCoy's estimation and not soon enough in everyone else's, there was work to be done. While we chatted over our pre-workday morning coffee, he casually mentioned Joanna's birthday was approaching. I remembered talking with her at the hotel as we went to fetch the peaches her dad promised her while he and her mother had it out over custody arrangements. He perhaps wisely never again asked me why I had to stipulate he wasn't to ever try to contact Joslyn's former partner, verbally or with his fists, but he was a smart man who was adept at reading between the lines and as far as I knew he held up his end of the bargain even if he wasn't necessarily happy about it. And to her credit, Joslyn did too.

Joanna seemed sad when she said then the girls at her school teased her because they didn't believe her about Jim once waving to her, but her eyes really lit up when talking about Pavel and I wondered if she still had a kiddie crush on him. The whirlwind of early teen passions tended to change direction abruptly and a few months in a girl's life was equal to about three adult years, so she may have moved on by now which would certainly make her father relieved. I knew McCoy was going to make a video for her because we were so far out of range a direct link was entirely out of the question. Even at that, he had to record it after his shift in order to get it to her on time because it would need to bounce off a series of several relay stations and hopefully it would still be intact by the time it got there. I knew I had to act fast.

As far as Joanna went, I would greet her if I just so happened to be in the room, but live direct link feeds were a distant memory so that was something I hadn't been confronted with in awhile. Other than that we agreed to let her think we were just coworkers, which also extended to her mother. Given the tenuous but effective goodwill I was able to forge with his ex-wife, I probably could have tastefully broached the uncomfortable topic with her, but McCoy was perhaps a bit more prickly about it being of the opinion it was simply none of her business, or as he more eloquently summed it up by saying, "Dammit, it's my dick not hers. She got to keep everything else, but that's mine." In the end I decided to respect his wishes for the time being, but if things were to continue as they were there would eventually come a point when he may have to explain to his daughter the concept of friends with benefits who also work together and are sort of married but not quite. That was an uncomfortable conversation he might not be able to handle with as much tact and grace as just being honest and direct with the mother of his child, but old habits die hard and he picked which frog he'd rather swallow.

As I rode the lift to my destined floor I was momentarily overwhelmed by the realization that should things between McCoy and I move toward making Jim's conceit legitimate, I would be a stepmother and my body went cold. I just wasn't ready for that, but the more I thought about it the more it became clear thanks to Jim I already kind of was- at least as far as Starfleet knew. At the time I agreed to the con only because I had nowhere else to go and I still wasn't sure if McCoy ever truly did consent to anything in a reasonably sober state, but Jim didn't tell me the full story of what I was signing up for. Given how much he and all of us had been drinking that night, maybe he didn't even fully realize it himself. I knew for a fact Jim was aware of Joslyn's existence the moment he met McCoy on the shuttle to the academy because he told me the unpleasant version of how he got the nickname "Bones," but I found it difficult to believe that in three years of rooming together and two years of service McCoy never once mentioned he also had a daughter. In fact it was downright impossible because Jo was by far the most important, and maybe the only important, thing to him in the entire universe so there was no way he wouldn't have found some small opportunity to talk glowingly about her.

I exited the lift and headed straight for my intended target, being sure to inch my foot forward just enough to trip the door chime. I heard some shuffling inside and a muffled voice inform me it would be a minute. While I waited I looked around the hallway and frowned. The last time I was there it was chaos and when it was all over hours later, McCoy sat slumped on the floor sleeping about two feet to the left of where I stood. "Privet!" Pavel greeted nervously from the doorway.

There was something about his demeanor and the way he partially hid behind the door that made me suspicious. I knitted my eyebrows and asked, "Is this a bad time?" My first thought was that he had company, and probably not the likes of Sulu. He didn't have a partner to speak of, but it didn't mean he was necessarily alone either. Relationships came in all sorts of configurations born of a myriad of circumstances, convenience probably being the most common of them.

His blue eyes went innocently wide. "No, no. Alvays a good time for you." He reassured me, although his speech was just a little pressured so as to politely suggest I should nonetheless just state my business.

"Ok," I went on warily, "I was wondering if you could do me a small favor." He was definitely up to something, I just didn't know what. His face remained a pleasantly tense mask and he nodded eagerly for me to go on. "Right. So I know a girl who sort of has a thing for you."

He immediately froze and his face went blank as though the conversation took a wholly unexpected turn. "Really?" He asked intrigued.

"She's young, Pavel. Too young." I gave him an apologetic smile for perhaps misleading him. "And she's McCoy's daughter."

A mildly pained expression washed across his face. "Oy, is it vorse to be a pedophile or be murdered by Dr. McCoy terribly?" He mused disgusted at his decision. "I think Dr. McCoy."

"I know, but it's a harmless infatuation and I think you could really make a young girl's birthday special if you wouldn't mind being in a video for her." I pitched hopefully.

Not more than two seconds later I left with his pledged participation, although I really had no doubts he would. It was just in his nature to be agreeable, although I think in part there was a small nonverbal understanding between us that stipulated I wouldn't investigate whatever he was up to if he said yes. Technically as his superior officer I could search his room and all he could do was stand by and watch if I even allowed him to do that, but that just seemed like a gross abuse of power. I would be lying if I said I wasn't at least a little curious but I knew Pavel and whatever it was, it was likely harmless fun- adult or otherwise.

Jim was on the bridge even though his shift was technically over. One would think he'd be glad to end another day of staring at a blank star field, but even though there was nothing on screen, he knew something was out there so he had to learn as much as he could about it. In some ways he'd grown to become a little less leap before looking which was a welcome sign of maturity. Then again, maybe he just knew his blind luck wouldn't hold out forever so he'd better have some sort of contingency plan in place. Either way, he was a bit more cautious these days so he remained on the bridge reading the latest results of scanning activity. "Uhura's not going to be happy." He mumbled in my direction never once looking up from his PADD screen. "No signs of advanced life. Some fauna, but no indications of organized civilization." He genuinely seemed to feel bad for her luck but in the end tossed the device aside with a small shrug. "And Bones will be even less pleased."

"Why's that?" I asked expectantly.

His eyes twinkled mischievously as he proclaimed, "Well, mostly just 'cause he's Bones, but this really is shaping up to be a challenge. It's in a locked orbit so the temperature's too hot _and_ too cold, and there's not enough oxygen to boot. I'm not a doctor, but I'm pretty sure humans need a fairly specific range of all three." It was as though all the cards were stacked just slightly against him. Not so much to dissuade him entirely, but too much not to be at least a bit concerned.

"And yet life finds a way to persist." I nodded with a smile. I wondered what kinds of amazing creatures and plants lived in that type of environment. "But if the orbit is static, shouldn't there be at least some goldilocks zones between the side facing the sun and the dark side?"

He bit his lip and seemed cautious which was a little unusual for him. "You'd think so and maybe we'll get more accurate information with a few more scans, but right now it looks like there's only a small sliver that might be safe for us to explore, so it's probably going to be a quick trip down and we'll move on." The subtext of his voice made it clear he was at least a little disappointed that the discovery was probably only going to amount to a mildly interesting diversion and he wasn't quite ready to go back to the status quo. "In any case, I suppose I should go down and update Bones. Spock also said something about being called an ugly girl?" He asked raising his eyebrow in curiosity.

I laughed as we entered the lift and began to descend at Jim's instruction because now Spock's reaction made more sense. "McCoy didn't call him that. He said he felt like one because I guess he missed a brief about this mission or something." I surmised. "Miscommunication I suppose. But speaking of that, it's unusual for Spock to mishear things." The more I thought about it, I recalled "He did seem preoccupied, though. Anything unusual happen on the bridge yesterday?"

He scoffed and hummed in a bored tone, "If you mean everyone managed to stay awake and sane." We exited on deck 5 amid the always swimming sea of blue and he dolled out a few nods to those who acknowledged him as he rounded the corner of sickbay and nearly ran into Chekov who was prompt as usual. Jim's expression grew slightly worried and he placed a hand on his navigator's shoulder. "What are you doing down here? You ok?"

"Oh, yes." He nodded eagerly. "I'm fine, captain. Dr. Collins asked me to meet here to make a video for Dr. McCoy's daughter, so I said yes."

His eyes drifted far away and he mumbled, "It's her birthday again? Seems like we just did this."

"Ve did, but that vas almost two years ago and birthdays happen every year so…" Pavel's voice trailed off and he shrugged as though time was a trickster and something not to be trusted.

Jim smiled and let his hand fall limply to the side. "I guess they do- it just makes me feel old. Jesus. She was only like three or four when I met her our first year at the Academy. Temper tantrums just like her old man." He whistled and rolled his eyes as though the memory were vivid for him and I couldn't help but chuckle. McCoy and Jo were two peas in a pod alright, but what was more salient to me in that moment was the fact he clearly knew about her- of course he did. "Bones!" He shouted heading for the office.

Like Jim, technically our shift was over but it didn't surprise me at all that he was still firmly planted at his desk. "Jim!" He cried incredulously throwing his hands up in the air and rolling his eyes dramatically. "This is a sickbay for Christ's sake. Just once do you think maybe you could act like you weren't raised in a barn?"

"But I kind of was, soooo..." Jim retorted rather matter of factly looping around the desk to stand behind him. "Hey, is this for Joanna's birthday?" He inquired ducking a bit to squint into his computer.

McCoy was momentarily at a loss of words. "Wha...wait," he stammered batting his eyes. "How did you remember that? Conveniently you can't remember what you had for breakfast when I ask, but you remember this?" He howled gesturing toward the device.

Jim completely ignored his questions and gave a brilliant smile while he slapped McCoy hard enough on the shoulder to send him lurching toward the camera a bit. "Don't listen to your old man, Joanna. I remembered and I wanted to wish you happy birthday. Now do what daughters do and use his credits to go treat yourself to something nice."

McCoy just sat looking up at his friend shaking his head slowly. "Yeah, great." He hissed in a sarcastic tone arching an eyebrow. "Thanks for that, Jim." He seemed even more confused and unsettled when Pavel took a place on his other side and bent down waving.

"Privet, Joanna!" He beamed. "S dnem rozhdeniya! Mozhet yeshche mnogo!"

McCoy's eyes darkened and he seemed exasperated. "Are you havin' some kind of fit? She doesn't speak Russian. No one here but you does!" His accent was starting to peek through a bit more and I was reasonably sure he didn't do it for my benefit this time.

Pavel gave him an oddly unapologetic smile and retorted, "Maybe you should. Besides, Dr. Collins asked me to."

He turned his eyes to me and I tried not to sink in my seat away from the withering gaze that felt like a tangible weight on my being. "Oh, that's just wonderful." He said quietly. "Et tu, Brutus? Wanna come say hello too since it's become a group effort?"

I didn't, but since I'd been called out I really had no choice so I sidled in between Pavel and Jim finding a small spot visible but not too front and center. "Hello, Joanna!" I smiled in my best cheerful tone, hoping the stress wasn't too evident in my voice. "I hope you have a wonderful birthday. Now you can go tell those girls at school to go eat sand because your dad does work very hard on a ship with Captain Kirk and good people like Mr. Chekov. Your father loves you very much. I just wanted you to know that I remember what you asked me and I'm trying." McCoy turned slightly to shoot me a deeply inquisitive look but I smiled wider at the screen to let him know now wasn't the time. "Happy birthday from all of us on the Enterprise!"

We all waved to the computer until McCoy reached up to turn it off. "I'll get that to Uhura so we can send it off first thing in the morning." Jim promised before sitting backwards straddling the seat at my desk. "But there's some things about the expedition coming up I wanted to talk to you about."

I took that as a prime opportunity to escort Pavel out so we could both maybe escape his wrath for the time being. He'd no doubt reign some holy terror down on Jim for all the impending ways the crew could potentially die horrible deaths, but that was Jim's problem now. "Thanks, Pavel." I said in a sincere tone once we were safely out in the hall and away from ground zero. "It was kind of you to do that."

He shrugged like it was no big deal. "You ask and it's a small thing so it's fine." The beautiful thing about him was that he meant it. "I vas a young boy once and I vould have loved to have a birthday video from my secret devushka." His cheeks blushed ever so slightly and I smiled softly at him. I remembered he told me he was raised with an absent father too so he no doubt understood her circumstance better than anyone. He was willing to play to a girl's silly fantasy to cheer her up while her father was in space, but I hoped Cupid would find him and deliver the real thing because he had a beautiful heart someone would be lucky to share.


	5. Bad Vibes

**Chapter 5- Bad Vibes**

McCoy and I tried to maintain some semblance of normality in our off the clock routines, if it could ever be said to have any sort of actual structure. We both came from previous marriages that were prematurely ended in ways not entirely of our own doing, so in that respect we both had a longing need for connection yet fear of abandonment that neither of us could ever completely overcome. Because of this, we were fiercely independent people who could maybe better appreciate that sometimes love meant autonomy for oneself and your partner and it didn't necessarily mean they were angry or the relationship was on the rocks. After working together in such close quarters during the day, sometimes the last thing either of us wanted was to force more interaction that night. Sometimes we spent nights apart because he was simply exhausted from his work. It was always nice to give and receive comfort when mildly unsettled for whatever reason, and while he was surprisingly a bit better at giving than taking, it was his reasoning that if after a long and stressful day if he were going to fall face down unconscious it might as well be in his own bed. Being comatose didn't amount to very good quality time in his estimation and that was the type of logic that not even Spock could argue with.

But sometimes it was my desire to spend the night alone in solitude because fair or not, as long as there was another human in the room a psychologist is never really off duty and in fact it tends to be harder if that person was someone they loved. It could be very difficult not to try to manage negative emotions for them even if it was best to let the person suffer a bit so they could better figure out how to manage on their own. It was equally hard not to get wrapped up in analyzing too much because sometimes a cigar is just a cigar as Freud would say. Quietly watching a particular show snuggled close together was time better spent than trying to find a deeper meaning as to why they chose the program they did.

In this way, McCoy and I had come to an easy understanding of one another's needs that felt comfortable and respectful. While we may have disagreed from time to time both professionally and even personally, our mutual devotion was never in question. Even though we didn't eat dinner together every night or consistently share a bed or even consolidate quarters, there was no doubt that what Jim told me was absolutely true: when the chips were down there was absolutely no one else I'd rather have in my corner. It may not have looked like the standard fairytale type of relationship most aspired to, but given our respective histories it was what worked for us.

But sometimes when he was feeling particularly glum and the circumstances were just right, he left little to the imagination and so it was when he asked me to stop by his room after the day's events. He greeted me at the door with a weary expression and bottle in hand. By the looks of it he opted to hit it hard in the short time since we parted ways for the day. Although he didn't drink nearly as much as he used to and I never said much to him about it, it did worry me that he sometimes used it to self medicate. Then again, he was making progress because in our prior encounters he would've either polished the whole thing off by now or never even bothered to call me in the first place. Baby steps I reminded myself. "Is this a house call?" I asked knowingly as I brushed past him. He grunted noncommittally as the door slid shut with a quiet hiss. I took a seat at his desk, piled with neatly stacked charts and wondered what they were doing down there. He had plenty of time to get them done and it made me wonder if he just felt inherently uncomfortable without even an imaginary threat of a crushing workload. Either that or he had terrible taste in decor. "So is this about the video?" I guessed.

He sighed heavily as he plopped down on his bed, whiskey swishing in the bottle. "Yeah, but not like you think." He paused to glance up at me with a playful expression that conveyed mock disappointment, "Although draggin' that poor Russian kid down there was just playin' dirty." He grinned lazily, his southern drawl slower and a little more syrupy than usual. "Nah, it's just…" he seemed at a loss of words and his mood became sullen before looking back up at me, eyes almost pleading, "do you ever feel lost? Like you're drownin' and no matter how hard you swim you know the shore's too far away and you'll never make it?"

I sat next to him and felt the bed sink under our collective and figurative weight. "Of course," I admitted softly, "McCoy, you've just described my entire life since I've been here."

"Yeah, guess so." He grumbled miserably taking a hit from the bottle before offering it to me. I politely declined, thinking at least one of us should keep a clear head tonight. If he was offended he didn't show it. "Making that video today just made me realize that my little girl's growing up fast while I'm out here doin' what?" He asked mildly exasperated gesturing to the nothingness that surrounded us. "Today it's crushes on boys and before 'ya know it, it's gettin' a license and off to college. Knowin' that file had a week to travel before it even got to her just made me wonder, what if somethin' happened to her? Did you know if she got seriously hurt or sick and even if Jim said to hell with it all and went full warp until he burned up the nacelles she'd likely be dead before we got there?" His voice took on a more desperate tone and it was clear the time and distance that separated him from her was just too much to contemplate.

McCoy may have been prone to far-fetched theories, but his suspicion of Jim's reaction may not have been too far out there. Just from the short time I'd known him, Jim seemed like he was a good captain, but he was a great friend. There wasn't much he probably wouldn't do for McCoy consequences be damned because as he once told me in no uncertain terms, McCoy was probably the only man he'd ever called a friend in his entire miserable life and that kind of bare honesty coming from him could be taken as gospel. He often talked about how loyal McCoy was, but it was plain to anyone with eyes the feeling was mutual.

He took a deep breath to no doubt quell the maelstrom of worse case scenarios that swirled in his head before continuing somberly, "But I know that's not the most likely thing about all this. The truth is," he glanced sideways at me and seemed utterly resigned and defeated, "I'm probably going to die out here and I know that's what I signed up for, but when it happens that's the end for her. She probably won't even get the dignity of having anything of me left to bury." He sniffed and took another drink. "Just an empty box with the Starfleet insignia."

I couldn't tell him he was wrong because he wasn't. If there was anything I learned at the Academy it was space was an inherently dangerous place and the ship's mission doubly so because we very often served as first contact to other life that had no reason to know or trust the Federation or exposed us to previously unknown pathogens and diseases. It was like being in the infantry and casualties were higher than those serving on star bases or other more settled sectors, but it was also why it required the best of the best. "I know." I said quietly placing my hand on his thigh. I didn't always have all the answers, but sometimes there just simply were none to be had.

He turned to me and his overwhelming sadness slowly morphed into something not quite so hopeless. "Well, I guess at least I won't die alone." He sniggered sarcastically. He heaved a weary sigh and struggled for sometime before he could finally force himself to make an admission that seemed to eat at him from the inside. "I just don't know. I have a bad feeling about this."

"About what?" I asked rubbing his thigh to encourage him to keep talking. It didn't really matter what he said as long as he got it all out of his system like one vomits to rid the body of poison.

"This surface excursion." He clarified. "Jim told me all about the charming attributes of the planet and although I'm not a bit thrilled, I can plan for it. But still, I….I dunno, I just have this feeling like a rock in my gut."

"Feelings of anxiety are often a sign of things left undone." I stated gently taking the bottle from him and setting it aside on the floor out of his reach. "You said you have a plan for the team, are there any details you might have left out?" I knew the chance was remote because McCoy used his paranoia as fuel to over-plan. His plans often had plans.

"I don't think so." He shook his head numbly.

"Ok then, how about personally?" I suggested. "Is this really just a symptom of something bigger? It seems you're experiencing something like an existential crisis about the universe and your place in it." I knew firsthand how crushing that realization could be.

He squinted at me and playfully asked, "Is that a bad thing? I can philosophize and stuff."

"Not at all." I replied, laughing at the incongruence of him somehow managing to correctly conjugate such an obscure verb despite drinking while not quite stick the overall landing of sounding profoundly intelligent. "It's a good way to check in and make sure we're on the right track in life to accomplish the things we think are important and make adjustments if needed."

He hung his head and massaged his temples as though he were in agony, but his broad smile gave him away. "Sweet Jesus on his throne. Do you counselor types ever not find the good in the worst of everything?"

It was nice to see his mood finally shift away from the darkness that made me worry my next move was going to be getting him to agree to a self-harm safety plan. "It's kinda what we do. Sure, we acknowledge the pain and suffering people go through, but we hold hope until our patients can reclaim it for themselves." I gave him a playful smile and leaned into him to bump his shoulder. "Besides, it's what Jim pays me the big bucks for." I laughed.

"And that's why I think for the first time in my cursed life I'm making a smart move." He proclaimed standing and stretching languidly before slowly strolling to the bathroom. I heard him turn on the water to shower and he yelled louder to be heard over the din. "Some people marry for love and others money, but I say what they all lack is ambition. At least with you I get both, so I'm bound to win either way and maybe even twice if it's Sunday."

I sat on the bed in equal measure stunned and charmed at his open admission. McCoy's reputation for never holding back in sharing his thoughts copiously often preceded him across the expanse of space, but when it came to affairs of the heart or those within his inner circle he was one who strongly preferred to let his actions speak rather than his words, so it was a rarity on his part akin to riding a unicorn while finding the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. I was pulled from my thoughts when his head poked around the door through the wall of steam and he smiled coyly. "Coming?"


	6. Rules of Engagement

**Chapter 6- Rules of Engagement **

Bright and early the next morning McCoy and I were asked to attend a briefing regarding the planned mission on the bridge. My role was peripheral at best and really would only come in after the fact if something went horribly sideways and the crew needed help putting it all into perspective, but Jim felt it would be a good learning opportunity since I managed to go on my first excursion without the benefit of being told what I was getting into beforehand. McCoy's was also technically adjacent, but unlike me it was his duty to extol the importance of following his directives to the away team which he of course took very seriously if the persistent scowl etched into his face was any indication.

"According to data gathered by scans the planet is populated by plants and animals, but only within a narrow longitudinal band." Spock informed us standing at attention. "There is water on the surface, although it does not appear potable due to high salinity levels as well as trace heavy metals. The planet orbits the star in a locked fashion yet there is evidence of volcanic activity and mountains are present, suggesting a history of tectonic forces." He gave his presentation all the vigor of a substitute science teacher, but when he paused for just a beat everyone unconsciously sat up a bit straighter. "Within the last four hours we have also discovered the planet has a molten core that spins at a rather high velocity."

Scotty looked around the room slack jawed and seemed surprised no one immediately connected the dots. "Aye, that's splendid." He said slapping the table when it became clear he was the only one who got the secret meaning. "So a high velocity core the size of a planet means stronger electromagnetic fields." He waited for someone to say something, but when everyone continued to stare at him he nearly shrieked "High electromagnetic fields means signal interference which means the transporters will be all fritzy and communications are all buggered!"

"We can address the communications issues." Uhura spoke up confidently. "We just have to consolidate all open lines into one channel and then use only that channel. The relay will be slower, but it shouldn't fail."

"Grand, but that doesn't fix the transporters." Scotty told the group. "I cannae just boost power because everyone'll go up in a puff a smoke leavin' grease spots on the pad." I swear I saw McCoy go pale and break out into a light sweat at his assessment.

"So what then do you suggest?" Spock asked curiously.

Scotty thought about it and shrugged. "Ah suppose we could back up a wee bit. If we move away from the source, the signals should stabilize."

McCoy just couldn't contain himself any longer. "Should?" He nearly howled. "Good god, man. We aren't talking chickens here which are perfectly fine fried extra crispy, these are people!"

For the first time Jim found the need to interject and his tone revealed how weary he was. "We know, Bones. We're not about to send anyone down if it's not safe, ok? And speaking of safe, why don't you tell us all what you came up with to keep us that way?"

McCoy shot him a perturbed glare at potentially being patronized, but forged ahead placing his hands on his hips and surveying the room with fire in his eyes. "Like Spock said, the water's not safe to drink so for the love of god don't try and don't even get it into your eyes, nose, or mouth if you can help it." He barked with authority. "Now it seems things down there are doubly blessed: 250 degrees boiling on one side and the same goin' in the other direction in the freezer section. Even the mild zones hover around 140 degrees which will make you all wilt and die of heat stroke in under 30 minutes flat, so you'll all need to wear thermal suits to regulate your body temperature. Too high and your brain melts in your skull. Too low and you turn into a blood popsicle."

Sulu timidly raised his hand before asking, "I'd really like for that not to happen, so what should we aim for if the suit fails?"

"Keep it between 96 and 100 at most." He answered before continuing. "As if that wasn't enough, the planet's proximity to the sun means higher UV exposure and oxygen levels are also relatively low. The suits will protect your skin and life support controls will keep the 02 at 20%, but keep the helmet visors down at all times unless you wanna faint and burn out your retinas like fryin' ants on a sidewalk with a magnifying glass."

Chekov looked down to the table and swallowed hard and even Spock seemed slightly disturbed by the metaphor. I nearly jumped out of my skin when McCoy turned his intense focus to me. "And now this fresh hell about the high EMF levels means your job just got harder." I took a sip of my coffee and raised my eyebrows as an invitation for him to please continue. "There's the potential for experiencing headache, but it can also cause increased anxiety, depression, and thoughts of suicide. So you all need to keep a close eye on each other. If anything," he paused for dramatic effect and poked a finger into the table to drive his point home, "_anything_ goes wrong down there you come back. If anyone on the team experiences weird physical symptoms or starts talkin' about offing themselves, that's it- mission's over. The margin of error here's much thinner than usual."

"Thank you for that, Bones." Jim nodded somberly. "Now I know all of you are probably bored, but this really isn't a top shelf mission. If we need to bail we will, it's not that important in the grand scheme of things. And as Bones said the margin here's pretty slim, so I'll understand if any of you'd rather take a pass on this one." When he was met with a sea of blank faces, he chuckled and mused, "Yeah, I thought not. Uhura, sounds like you probably need to stay here to rig the coms, and Scotty, we're gonna need all the expertise you got to get us there and back." He gave a small sigh and added, "Sorry, Chekov. Better luck next time." Pavel nodded bravely, but it didn't take a psychologist to tell he was a little crushed at the prospect of being the odd man out. "Spock, you can stay or go. Your choice."

Spock breathed lightly and his dark eyes went a little hazy as he internally debated his options. "As the ship's science officer it would be appropriate for me to accompany you, however, I have already assessed the geology and environment of the planet. The rest is perhaps best left to the expertise of Mr. Sulu to gather samples and make notations of the vegetation. And as for animal life, although not precisely the same, Dr. McCoy has more insight into biology than anyone on this vessel."

McCoy snapped his head in Spock's direction and attempted to kill him with a single sharp glare. "And just what the hell are you expecting me to do? Go down there just in case a T-rex needs a liver transplant? Dammit, Spock! I'm a doctor, not a…"

Spock coolly held his gaze and interjected, "Zoologist? Veterinarian? Cryptobiologist? All true, doctor, but how many different sentient species are currently known to exist by the Federation?" When McCoy didn't immediately answer he persisted in a ruthlessly stoic tone, "Well over 500 and counting and of those that are humanoid, how many have you been trained to assist in some fashion if required?"

McCoy continued to stare stonily at him and growled, "So what's your point?" Everyone in the room knew their CMO was nothing if not a damn near genius at what he did, but what they may not have seen was the long hours he put in including his own personal time spent reading volumes of medical papers and journals in an effort to learn as much as he could about every species he could just in the unlikely event he may need it. I had on more than one occasion found him splayed across his desk late into the night, face smushed against a PADD sound asleep.

"My point is, doctor, that your observations would likely be most useful in this moment." Spock explained patiently.

McCoy squinted harshly and placed his hands firmly on his hips. "Is that so?" He asked quietly in a dangerously measured tone. "Well, I have some observations for you.."

"Bones." Jim warned in a low, stern voice to call off the verbal dogs before they had a chance to attack the intended victim. He looked to his friend apologetically and sighed, "I think he's right, although not for the same reason. Face it, Bones. You told us all in no uncertain terms how little wiggle room we have. 10 steps in the wrong direction and we're baking or freezing and if any of us accidently gets water in our eyes…"

"Except that wouldn't happen because you have your visor down _at all times_." He tersely reminded.

"Yeah, or fry our eyeballs out. You made that abundantly clear." He acknowledged with a pained expression as though he were unwillingly envisioning the aftermath of that particular mistake. "What I'm trying to say is if anything goes wrong, we'd need near immediate medical attention which we can't get wasting our time beaming up and transporting to sickbay. It may be too dangerous to delay."

"I'm glad you recognize that." McCoy commended folding his arms across his chest with a sarcastic nod. "But if it's so dangerous why are we going, Jim? You said it yourself, this isn't important so why risk it?"

Jim seemed to grow more irritated by the minute, not least by the fact McCoy was coming dangerously close to calling his leadership skills into question in front of most of his officers over what he obviously felt was a trivial matter. "We have a mission." He answered slowly in a dark tone that sent chills up my spine. His blue eyes, normally so congenial, were hardened steel. Those were the same eyes I saw big as day on the screen before he blew Saren's ship to bits and it was terrifying. Furtive glances shot back and forth between the crew and it was plain they also picked up on the tension so thick it suddenly felt hard to breathe.

Thankfully, the most important person in the room got the message as well. McCoy squinted at his friend and turned sharply on his heel to get ready, but not before huffing an indignant, "Aye, captain." He seemed equal parts fearful, angry, and sad and it was tough to watch.

Judging by the look on Jim's face it was hard for him too. His was a precarious balancing act because while McCoy may have been his friend which more often than not allowed him leeway that on any other ship would've landed him in the brig for insubordination, at the end of the day he was of a higher rank and thus had final authority. Friendship notwithstanding he had a ship to run and sometimes that meant issuing direct orders to force compliance. "Stations, everyone. Those assigned to the away team meet at the transporters in 30."

His voice was still firm, but tinged with just a hint of regret and trepidation that I couldn't overlook. While we all stood and silently filed out of the conference room, I gave him a small nod as I passed just to remind him I'd be around if he needed me. Although he didn't respond outwardly, his eyes softened just a bit and I got the distinct sense that he might have taken me up on the offer if only he had more time to, but duty called.

I hastily made my way to sickbay where McCoy was shoving all manner of items into a bag to take with him with a little more force than necessary. He was already dressed in a somewhat form fitting one piece suit made of white semi-reflective material. The black collar and cuffs looked to be rubbery and tight almost like a dive suit, and I supposed it had to be if it was climate controlled. To be otherwise made about as much sense as running the air conditioner with the windows open. He was wearing rugged black hiking boots while a sleek white helmet with a yellow mirrored visor and black gloves rested on the biobed by the door. "Leaving so soon?" I weakly asked, realizing it was a bad attempt at humor. He paused and glanced over his shoulder, but said nothing and resumed his silent packing rampage. "I'm sorry." I sincerely apologized hanging my head. "I know that was insensitive."

After a few seconds his movements became less frantic and quietly asked, "Think you can teach Jim that trick?" Most of the anger was gone out of his voice and all that was left was hurt and it was heartbreaking.

As far as I knew, the two had been close friends for many years and I was sure this was far from the first argument they had. Stubborn as Jim could be at times, he was keenly aware of how his actions affected others and as prickly as McCoy could be, he was loyal to a fault so I knew they would eventually work it out and very likely wouldn't need my help doing it. However, that didn't mean there wasn't work for me to do. "Dr. McCoy," I called smiling slyly as I took a few backwards steps toward the office, "if I may consult with you before you leave?"

He looked up at me and I watched as the deep lines in his face eased a bit when the implication sank in and he quickly looked around the sickbay to see if anyone else got the double entendre. If they had, they wisely pretended not to hear and continued on about their business if anything with a bit more vigor than before. He hastily zipped up his bag, slung it over his shoulder and grabbed his helmet and gloves almost in one deft move to follow me. He casually leaned against his desk and as soon as I closed the door he asked with a smirk, "Is this a professional or private consultation?"

"Does it matter?" I laughed before moving in close to inform him, "I'm going to need you to clock out for a minute."

"Done." He granted with a tight nod wrapping his arms loosely around my waist to pull me a little closer to him. "But you know, these suits don't leave much to the imagination, so you'd better be real careful."

"I'll bet that would make for a really awkward moment while you guys are all standing around on the pad waiting to get beamed down, but you know how we talked about assigning responsibility where it belongs and well," I chuckled, "that sounds like a personal problem to me."

He gave me a mock scowl and retorted, "It might be my problem, but it'd be your fault."

"In that case I'm not sorry, but I did want to see you off." I reached up to kiss his warm lips and pulled him into a hug. "Be safe and I'll be here to listen to you complain about it all when you get back." I mumbled into his chest. While I tried my best to hide it, in reality I was just as anxious as him and I felt a little conflicted. I was supposed to be the neutral calm center of the storm, the one who knew just what to do or say to control the situation or make others feel better, but I was only human too and even though I knew this to be true, I still felt selfish. I remembered well the feeling of utter devastation as though it had been permanently etched into my soul the moment I watched Saren blow up the shuttle I thought he was still flying and I didn't want to feel that way ever again.

The wiry tension in his muscles buzzed like an electric current and told me he continued to have his own doubts about it all too, but like me he tried to bravely hold his position until Scotty's voice came across the intercom to call him to the transporter room. I gave him one final squeeze and reminded him, "Just remember to breathe, McCoy. Calm."

He picked up his gear and tossed me a guarded look as he walked out the door, his olive eyes heavy with dread like the reluctant soldier he was. "If we all come back breathing I'll call it a win."


	7. Crash Landing

**Chapter 7- Crash Landing**

I debated whether I should remain in the sickbay or make my way up to the bridge. Jim did tell everyone to man stations, but I didn't strictly have one per se. There would be no work for me on deck 5, but at the same time I didn't want to interfere with whatever was going on up above. After much milling around which I openly recognized as my own anxiety about McCoy's anxiety, I decided to let someone else make the decision for me. Line of command and all that.

I exited the lift and Spock only casually glanced in my direction while he alternated his attention between the large screen at the front and the myriad of blinking lights and buttons on his station console. "Sir," I greeted formally as he was at the moment both my superior officer and acting captain of the ship, "permission to remain and observe?"

"If you wish." He responded in what sounded like a bored tone, although I knew he was very much focused on his duties. It was an act of grace in my opinion because I was sure the last thing he needed or wanted was someone else to babysit.

My inclination was to hover by Uhura since it seemed anytime I'd been on the bridge when something was going on that's where I hunkered down, but she seemed fairly busy trying to establish links to each member of the away team's built-in communication system and after only a minute or two of watching her it became clear it was no easy task. Spock was standing at his station rigidly and there was no way in Ursa Major I would ever think to sit in the captain's chair, so I made my way to the front of the bridge and meekly asked Pavel if I could sit with him.

His eyes lit up and he welcomed me with a warm smile. "Yes, of course!" He invited gesturing to Sulu's empty chair. Truthfully I think he was a bit lonesome or nervous himself and was glad for the company. We watched the large screen and one by one boxes popped up from each away team member in first person view, apparently from cameras built into the helmets. Depending on what person was looking where, most of the control room was visible including Scotty who looked a little tense despite himself.

While I thought it was a neat setup, Uhura glared at it from the back of the room and sighed obviously bothered. "They all look the same." She mused to herself and I realized she was right.

Fully donned they all looked non-descriptively identical with no distinguishing features and it was difficult to even determine who was who by height because they weren't consistently in relative proximity to one another. "The one with a bag slung over the shoulder is probably McCoy." I offered trying to sound helpful.

"Assuming he did not request one of the others to assist him, even temporarily." Spock countered. Even though that probability seemed wildly remote, I had to concede it was still possible in some universe even if not ours. If Scotty was a bit protective of his precious engine rooms, there was no way McCoy would tolerate anyone touching his toys ever.

"Gentlemen," Uhura called holding her earpiece a little closer, "I'm going to need your help. Captain, please wave your hand in front of your face." Slowly, wiggling fingers appeared in one of the boxes and with a flash of typing a new field appeared in the top left corner noting "Kirk." "Thank you, now Dr. McCoy?" She requested. All three figures remained still and she called again, "Dr. McCoy? Can you hear me?"

"Oh, I hear you." Came his irritated voice albeit a little crackly, "but my orders didn't include playing Simon says."

In Jim's box his view shook slowly side to side in disappointment and there was an audible sigh. It was a little disorienting for me to reconcile his internal view with the other two external ones that picked up on the same movements at the same time and I wondered if that's what it was like to be omniscient. He came into close proximity to one of the other views and cocked his head slightly while he tapped on the visor, which by extension looked like he was tapping on the huge view screen on the bridge. "You pouting in there, Bones?" He taunted.

"What I do in here is private, Jim." He said flatly which Sulu apparently found wholly inappropriate yet hilarious judging by his strangled snickering. Uhura sighed and within seconds the ornery box was labeled "McCoy." Sulu's box was also properly identified and after one last coms check, Scotty was given a thumbs up by Kirk to signal go time.

The visual fields filled with a bright shimmering light that was temporarily blinding before resolving in a terrifying manner. Pavel and I looked to one another in fear and desperation as though the other could somehow do something. Even Spock's eyes went just a bit wider and he seemed to have stopped breathing as he watched.

The views on screen were stomach churning as variously patches of sky and tree covered mountains were either fast approaching or drifting further away depending on the person's body orientation. The startled screams of the men filled the room followed by the crashing sound of broken branches and grunts as they descended through the canopy. Jim was first to hit the ground face up followed by McCoy who ingloriously crumbled in a tangled heap after his bag got snagged near the bottom of a tree and tossed him for a loop. Both were coughing and wheezing, but Jim quickly scrambled to his feet and holding his side limped over to his friend to help him up. "Bones, you ok?" He asked with hitched breath.

McCoy slowly disentangled himself and gently slapped his hand away, growling, "Dammit, Jim. I'm too old for this. I nearly broke a hip." He rolled into a sitting position on the ground and hung his head to catch his breath while blindly feeling around for his bag.

Jim quietly nudged it over to him with the toe of his boot and looked up into the diffuse light through the leaves before scanning the area around him so fast it made me a bit nauseous. "Sulu?" He called calmly at first, but when there was no immediate answer the tension rose in his voice. "Sulu? Where are you?"

"Be there in a minute." Came his tired reply as though he were struggling. According to his view he was slowly and carefully making his way down a tree branch by branch. "I uh…" he panted lowering himself down to the next set of footholds, "I was able to grab onto a limb as I was falling, but I think I'm ok. I'm climbing down."

"Good," Jim exhaled obviously spent from the adrenaline rush, "take your time. We'll wait." He sniffed and once more approached his friend who was still slumped like a ragdoll. "Bones?" He called quietly reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder. "Bones, seriously- you ok?"

After a few more seconds of silence, he sighed wearily. "I suppose. I'll look like a walking inkblot test from bruises when we get back, but miraculously I don't think anything's broken. I guess I'll just have to wait and see on the internal bleeding part, so if I just suddenly pass out don't pay me no mind." He paused to look up at the sky and grumbled, "Thanks, Scotty. I owe you one."

Scotty's voice came online and he truly sounded upset. "That wasn't supposed to happen, Ah swear it. Ah thought ah had the frequency worked out…"

"It's ok, Scotty." Jim called rubbing his arm to no doubt ease the sting of forming bruises. "Nobody's perfect and nobody's dead so it's all good." I had to admire Jim. Despite being unexpectedly reconstituted in the sky and falling to a near certain death he somehow legitimately didn't hold it against his chief engineer like it was just another Tuesday at the office.

"What about you, Jim?" McCoy asked genuinely concerned as he slowly managed to stand up. "You alright?" Whatever hurt or tension that lie between them had been forgotten, but I supposed near death experiences had a way of putting things into perspective.

"Yeah, I think so." He replied still rubbing his arm.

I didn't need to see McCoy's face to know he was squinting at him with extreme suspicion because I could hear it in his voice. "Would you tell me if you weren't?"

"Of course, Bones." Jim said miserably. "I know this is important. I asked you to come for this very reason and I'd definitely tell you if something was seriously wrong."

There was just a brief pause and a small sigh. "Alright then." He quietly accepted. Jim had plenty of times before given McCoy fits with his tendency to deny everything, but it was clear this was not going to be one of those occasions for a game of hide and seek.

Sulu's boots hit the soil with a soft thud and both Jim and McCoy looked in his direction, although it was difficult to tell what their reaction was because no one had expressions- just mirrored yellow visors for faces, but overall they did look like a sad lot. Their pristine white suits were now marred and streaked with dirt and bits of leaves and they were sore and out of breath. They'd only been on the planet for two minutes and already they were worse for wear.

"Equipment check." McCoy announced as though he were the only one who remembered to be an adult in the situation. "Life support, thermal regulation. Any tears in the suits or cracked helmets?" They looked themselves and each other over and all in all the suits seemed to have held up remarkably well considering.

"Alright, gentlemen. Let's get to work so we can go home." Jim ordered clapping and rubbing his hands in front of him.


	8. Flora and Fauna

Chapter 8- Flora and Fauna

Now that they were safely on land despite a rough start, both they and those of us left watching felt a little more at ease. Pavel and I watched the screen and occasionally remarked on a flower or the lush foliage of a plant Sulu gathered and studied. Jim busied himself collecting soil, water, and rock samples while McCoy made a half-hearted attempt at thrashing around in the bushes trying to scare up some kind of animal just to say he attempted to fulfill his duties. Although he wasn't immediately successful, the team did find traces of animal activity such as tufts of fur and what appeared to be tracks in the damp soil. McCoy estimated by the looks of things the creature that left them behind was about seven feet tall, fairly heavy, and walked on two legs.

Jim seemed to be mildly impressed with his CMO. "Learn all that hunting in Georgia?" He asked shaking a vial of silvery white soil to make sure he had enough for the research team to study.

"No, it's basic science, Jim." He said much like a teacher who was disappointed a student failed the exam. "Maximum distance divided by 0.15 gives an approximate height. Bigger things tend to be heavier things and the tracks are imprinted deep in the soil. And there's only one set of alternating prints as opposed to two, which would be the case if it was four legged." He lectured.

Behind us, Spock muttered appreciatively, "Torpinard's law. Very clever, doctor." I returned my gaze to the screen and thought about how he tracked me to the stream and acted mystified as to how it never occured to me to use grass patterns to do it. I glanced over at Pavel and thought of snow on tree trunks. Even Spock seemed to know these things and I wouldn't have been surprised if Uhura did too. Perhaps I was the only utterly hopeless person in the room…

"Dr. McCoy!" Sulu yelled from deep in the foliage. "I think I found something."

Jim and McCoy bushwhacked their way to him, cursing the long vines that snagged their clothing and tended to wrap around their feet. Soon they found him pointing toward the ground at what looked like the rotting corpse of who knew what about the size of a large dog.

Jim bent down placing his hands on his knees to get a closer look. "What is it?" He wondered. Trying to classify an entirely new species would've been tough enough without having the additional challenge of it being mangled and half rotted away.

McCoy's helmet rotated toward Kirk's and in a deadpan voice he replied, "It's dead, Jim." When his friend was at a total loss for words, he went on. "I'm not a coroner, but I'd say the cause of death is sudden lack of most of the internal organs." He shrugged lightly as though it were out of his hands. "Some things are just universal constants."

"So glad you came down with us, Bones." Jim sighed exasperated standing upright. "Maybe we can at least get a sample to take back to get a genetic sequence."

"Ok, but that's going in your bag- not mine." McCoy warned rummaging through his in search of his surgical tools.

While he went to work meticulously gathering bits of flesh and bone, Jim and Sulu simultaneously turned to one another. "Did you feel that?" Sulu asked cautiously.

"Yeah." Jim confirmed in a low voice. Both looked around at the thick jungle but didn't see anything in particular. "Spock?" He called perhaps a bit more nervous than he wanted to sound. "You got anything?"

"A minor seismic tremor." He responded poking at his panel. "Nonetheless, it may be wise to seek lower ground as you are on the slope of a small mountain."

"Uh…" Jim hummed again taking in his surroundings, "and just for the sake of argument which way would that be?"

A jolt of adrenaline shot through Pavel's body as he sprung upright and began frantically working at his station consulting maps and charts. "Captain, there is a sea to the vest of you vich is the quickest vay down, but the cliffs are steep. Or you can go to the valley to the east, but you have to hike a natural pass over the mountain to get there and that vay it gets colder."

Jim heaved a weary sigh. "Sounds like the sea then." He may have been lucky, but it didn't mean his life was by any means easy. "Hurry up, Bones. We should go."

"Hurry up?" He scoffed tightening the lid on his specimen jar and taking the extra precaution of placing it in a second airtight biohazard bag. "Is that something you say to a man wielding incredibly sharp medical blades?" When Jim motioned for him to follow as he walked away, he mumbled, "Unbelievable." He stood and half jogged to catch up again cursing the vines that nearly tripped him and yelled, "Hey, get back here! This was going in your bag!"

"It's yours now, Bones." Jim laughed making sure he stayed just a few steps ahead as best he could for the tangled foliage that seemed to fight his every attempt to escape. He stopped laughing as he nearly went careening off the edge of the cliff Chekov warned him about. Thankfully, McCoy closed the gap just in time to pull him back with Sulu's help. Jim's breathing was rapid as he looked back over the edge. "Jesus, that snuck up on us." He panted.

Once his friend was secure, McCoy also peered over the precipice that was camouflaged by the dense jungle of tangled plants. "That's gotta be 100 feet if it's 10." He grumbled no doubt none too happy at the prospect of free climbing down a sheer rock face to the beach below.

"Anyone bring any rope?" Sulu asked darkly taking a look for himself. "Or wings?"

"No, but we could make one out of those damn vines." Jim sourly suggested.

Once more McCoy's head slowly swiveled toward Jim. "You can't be serious." He stated warily. I understood his trepidation. At best, Jim was kidding and at worst he meant it, but with him you never really knew on any given minute unless you asked.

It was a tense few minutes watching them stand around apparently seriously contemplating Jim's half baked plan when Chekov interjected. "Captain, there is a path along the cliff face to your right. It vill get you most way there, but there is one spot vhere you have to climb down approximately 15 feet to the next shelf and another near the end about 6 feet down. From there you vill be on the beach." His chipper tone was typical of him, but in this instance made it sound like he was giving instructions on something as simple as boiling water.

"Or," came McCoy's impatient voice, "we can just call it a day and beam back up assuming Scotty doesn't drop us in the warp core."

"Eh, McCoy." Scotty broke in. "What's the longest finger on a hand?" Reflexively Pavel and I looked down at our own and I wondered if Spock did too. Uhura laughed softly at the back of the room so I was reasonably sure she did."Ah said ah was sorry."

He grumbled and through Sulu's view I watched him look at the sky and fold his arms across his chest. "Ok, fine. See if I look the other way next time you come up to the sickbay for large amounts of citric acid tablets and sterilized water to," he paused to make air quotes "clean the machinery." He huffed and shook his head. "I swear you and your crew make enough rotgut hooch down there in the engine rooms to degrease the ship 10 times over."

"Aye, but ya don't complain when some finds its way to your desk drawer, carts, quarters, or anywhere else ya hide it. Ya have more stash sites than a squirrel stockin' up nuts for a long winter."

To his left, Jim's shoulders shook slightly as he laughed. "He's right." He defended when McCoy turned his attention to him. "I'm starting to think you have a problem, Bones. You know, I never have to worry about the ship running out of fuel. When that happens we can raid all your hidey holes and we'd have enough pure alcohol to run it on combustion alone."

"I'd shoot you out an airlock first." He deadpanned. "That's a terrible waste of alcohol, Jim." Beside me, Pavel nodded firmly in agreement.

The levity came crashing down once they realized they weren't alone. While they stood at the cliff's edge chatting something had been watching them from behind and the quick glimpse we got as they quickly turned their heads at the low growling sound was frightening.


	9. Ups and Downs

Chapter 9- Ups and Downs

It was over in a flash. All we got to see was a brief glimpse of a monster as it charged the away team. McCoy was right, about seven feet tall and stocky it looked like a black furred yeti with rows of jagged teeth like a shark, but then again it all happened so fast no one was quite sure what they saw. The swirling images from the cameras was almost hallucinogenic as they frantically looked between the monster and the sea for a way out. Finally, Jim had to make a choice and his decision was to pull McCoy and Sulu over the edge of the cliff rather than take it on unarmed even if there were three of them, or try to run and no doubt get tripped up by the vines that would only act as restraints.

We held our collective breath while the cameras bounced and jarred along with their bodies as they slid along the rockface, trying desperately to get a hold on anything to slow their descent. Finally they all came to an abrupt stop, although judging by the relative distance to fixed objects each came to rest on ledges of differing heights on the cliffs. The bridge was filled with their disturbing chorus of exhausted panting, ragged coughs, and pained groans that sounded much worse than the descent through the treetops. Sulu seemed to be the highest up and therefore the closest to the monster. He calmly laid on his back and watched it growl and hiss at him from a fairly safe distance although an amazing amount of drool dripped down to cover his mask like viscous raindrops. "You think you're having a bad day." He mused sarcastically.

McCoy looked up from his position to see Sulu's leg dangling off the edge of his precipice about 15 feet above him just as Chekov said there would be. He then glanced below him to see Jim pulling himself into a sitting position on a lower ledge nearby. "Great." He muttered once more gazing upward toward Sulu.

"I'll bet he's debating on who to see to first." I observed. "My money's on Sulu."

"But vhy?" Pavel asked curiously. "The captain's closer."

"The captain is moving, Mr. Sulu is not." Spock reasoned.

"He's moving, but he hasn't said anything which is pretty unusual for him." Uhura countered. "At least Sulu's talking and he sounds ok."

"What will it be, McCoy?" I whispered to myself, "Sulu's potential spinal injury or Jim's possible head injury?" Even though the team was wearing helmets that protected them from blunt force blows, it didn't stop the brain from sloshing around in the skull during high velocity impacts like the one they just experienced, let alone several in a row. If they all didn't come back with concussions I'd eat my uniform.

"Sulu," McCoy called up to his fallen comrade, "kick your leg if you can." Sulu complied and all seemed about as normal as he could expect. "Can you move your arms?" He asked concerned.

Sulu was quiet for a moment, but eventually hesitantly responded "One of them."

McCoy groaned and inquired, "Well, is the other at least still attached to your body?"

"Aye, sir." Sulu giggled and I could tell by Pavel's expression we were both concerned he may have been going into shock. He was usually the happy-go-lucky type but was way too serious to be giggly even when he drank, which he rarely did.

"Jesus." McCoy mumbled in a low tone. It seemed he may have had the same concern. "Jim!" He called looking toward his friend. "Talk to me."

"Dirty?" He asked sounding a little irritated as his head rolled in McCoy's direction, sun glinting off his dusty visor. While we may have been worried about Sulu's atypical reaction, that brand of devil may care humor was entirely par for Jim's course.

"Sweet or sexy, just don't lie to me." He requested.

"Nah, I'm…" he paused to look down at his suit once a brilliant white now dirty with a gaping hole by his knee stained red with the blood that oozed from a gash just above his kneecap.

"You're what?" McCoy asked slowly in a dreadful tone.

"I'm uh…" He sniffed before letting a small resigned sigh escape his lips. "I'm ok but a little screwed, Bones." He admitted. "My suit's busted up." To his credit, he told McCoy he'd be honest with him and he mostly was even if his instincts told him not to for things like this. Looking through Jim's view out across the ocean all seemed beautiful and quite peaceful until one realized he was sitting directly in the path of the hot sun with no shade or way to regulate his no doubt rapidly rising body temperature. He was quite literally cooking like an egg out on the ledge and since the planet was in a locked orbit, there was no hope for relief because there would never be a sunset. It seemed his hell was eternal.

McCoy glanced down and tapped at the cracked readout of his own suit that still plainly said 109 and reached up to begin his climb toward Sulu. "Yeah, well that makes two of us." He grunted from the effort to pull the weight of himself and his medical gear up against the wishes of gravity. I bit my lip not only because it was a dangerous thing to do, but the physical activity would only accelerate the rate at which his internal temperature rose. As I watched him slowly ascend I wondered if he was also asking himself if he ever thought he'd go through medical school to become a surgeon only to find himself scaling a sheer cliff without safety gear on a newly discovered planet towards the open serrated jaws of very angry beast. His life was a bit atypical, but I'd bet not even he could've foreseen that in any of his paranoid projections.

As he inched closer, the beast seemed to become more frantic at the thought of a meal and the saliva began flowing even more, making his already hard task even more dangerous because the rocks were becoming slippery with drool. He looked up at the monster and hissed, "Aw, hush up will you? Don't make me come up there. If I do, I promise I'll have a hypo full of slow death for you with me."

"Seriously, man." Sulu warned the snarling animal, "I'd just walk away if I were you. He'll do it and it won't be pretty."

I hadn't realized I was sitting on the edge of my seat. I was certain McCoy had more extensive training than I did at the Academy in the fundamentals of such things as hand-to-hand combat or phaser target shooting and the like, but I really had to wonder if this was one of the topics covered. The more I thought about it the less likely it seemed and the dread that filled my gut gained 20 pounds.

"Careful, Bones." Jim called nervously watching from his vantage point after McCoy's foot slipped, leaving him hanging only by his hands for a few heart-stopping seconds. Pavel was trying to keep a brave face for my sake, but even he couldn't help but shift in his chair uncomfortably and glance at me with raised eyebrows as though he too were on pins and needles.

"Really?" McCoy asked indignantly through what sounded like clenched teeth as he regained his foot holds after some semi-frantic kicking, "Why is it you never take your own advice?" He paused to rest for a minute to recover from his ordeal, breathing heavily while he watched the monster above him make several attempts to reach down to swat at him with a huge paw equipped with what looked like long, sharp talons despite not even coming close. "Well, I don't know what species you are but I do know one thing," he panted watching the creature, "you may be big but you don't have the sense God gave a goose. Anything else with two brain cells to rub together could've either figured out how to get me by now or realize it's a waste of time and energy." He chuckled as he prepared to pull himself up the last few feet. "Brains always beats braun and it's obvious you lost that lottery."

"Be nice to the monster man, Bones." Jim playfully admonished in a sleepy voice. "This is our first contact and your idea of a greeting is insulting his intelligence."

McCoy glanced up again and corrected, "If I had to guess I'd say it's a female, Jim."

"Really?" He asked seemingly a little more alert at that development. "How do you know?"

McCoy reached over to grasp the edge of the outcropping Sulu rested on. "It's not so much what's there, it's what isn't." He grunted climbing his way around Sulu's leg. "And if my greeting is an insult, we all know what yours is so don't go gettin' any ideas about tryin' to mate with it. God knows what kind of venereal disease that thing's carryin' around and I won't have an antidote for it." Even though no one could really see him, Jim threw up his hands in amazement and shook his head at what he clearly thought was an unfair accusation.

It was a relief to see McCoy finally swing a leg over the edge to clamber over it and into Sulu's view over him even though the other leg still dangled into nothingness. There wasn't much room for the both of them, but at least the balance of him was now safely perched on the rock. McCoy was breathing heavily from the exertion and propped himself up on one trembling arm to rest briefly, but his voice was wry as ever as he bent over Sulu and asked "Somebody call for a doctor?"

"I'm betting this is going to be one expensive house call." He said with a sense of dread.

"Oh, you have no idea kid." McCoy warned as he looked him over, quickly but carefully examining his limbs as best he could through the suit with his hands.

Behind me, Spock cleared his throat and looked down at his console as though he were mentally kicking himself. There was no way I was going to question my superior officer, so I attempted to circumvent the situation by quietly whispering "What's going on?" in Pavel's general direction.

"I am right here." Spock cooly reminded. "If you wish to make an inquiry, might I suggest you direct your curiosity to the appropriate person."

I cursed myself for forgetting he had incredible hearing and slowly turned in my seat to cautiously ask, "Do you know why he's not just using his tricorder, Sir?"

"I do, Dr. Collins." He stated simply and continued to push buttons at his station.

After a few tense seconds when it became clear he felt the conversation was over, I patiently prompted "And that reason would be…?"

He looked up at me and responded "That was not your question."

I sighed and tried not to let him win because I knew exactly what he was trying to do. "It was implied and I know very well you know what that is. I believe it's how you sprung us from the Klingon gulag- by letting them believe you were going to give them all of Jim's Romulan ale." Behind him, Uhura raised her eyebrow almost daring him to argue. Of the two of us, she had it worse than I did on that particular venture and it seemed it was still as fresh in her memory as it was mine.

"Very well." He conceded. "Dr. McCoy's tools are largely useless because when we learned of the elevated electromagnetic fields, we manufactured the suits with a fine woven mesh of nanocopper wire to scatter the signals. Unfortunately the same type as those used by his equipment."

"Like a Faraday cage." I noted dryly before realizing, "I guess it also reduces their risk of the psychological effects McCoy talked about, though."

"Indeed and that was the intended purpose. The modifications were made at the last possible opportunity and although Dr. McCoy voiced his concerns, it was felt at the time the certainty of sustaining damage without it outweighed the possibility of his need with it." He seemed angry at himself and worried about the implications of his missed gamble on the team and I felt bad for him. Vulcans may have exacting standards, but he was also half human and I just knew he was viewing it as a liability at the moment.

I was distracted by a strangled groan and reflexively returned my attention to the screen to see McCoy feeling his way along Sulu's left arm. "Mmmhmmm." He grumbled knowingly. "Feels like it's broke in about three places and you probably got at least that many ribs snapped like twigs, maybe even your ankle but I can't really tell 'cause there's no way in hell I'm taking your boot off out here. If it is, that's the only thing keepin' it from swellin' up like a balloon." He placed his hands on either side of Sulu's helmet and by his view seemed to be inspecting it for damage. "You feelin' nauseous or havin' problems seeing straight?" His accent was in full effect and I knew that meant he was completely tuned into what he was doing.

"Not really." He sighed wearily. He sounded so utterly exhausted from the day's events and I shot Pavel a sympathetic look for his friend.

"That's good." McCoy seemed relieved as he straightened up to tower over his patient despite kneeling, still balancing on his one leg for lack of a place to put the other without completely climbing on top of him and potentially risk exacerbating his injuries. He dug in his bag for a minute and produced a hypo to inject Sulu with what we all hoped for his sake was pain medication, but he paused and looked him up and down when he realized there really were no good options due to the full coverage gear they all wore. He hastily stripped off Sulu's right glove and stuck him in the wrist while he called "Jim, how you holdin' up down there?"

"It's awfully warm out here, Bones." He observed in a faraway voice. "I feel like I have my own personal swimming pool inside my suit."

"That's disgusting, Jim." McCoy curtly informed him although his internal helmet camera now ran blurry with his own sweat. "When we get back be sure to drink a lot of water, preferably fortified with electrolytes. You hear me? Water- not…" Suddenly McCoy's view tipped toward the sky in a graceful arc and then began shaking and tossing violently while the landscape around him twisted in nightmarish flashes.

From Sulu's vantage he just simply dropped away and when he instinctively rolled over to look over the edge despite his shattered body, all we on the bridge could do was watch as McCoy plummeted toward the beach still reaching for anything, intermittently bouncing off the cliff wall and ledges like the cascade of rocks that followed him in a river.

Jim perhaps had the clearest view of all. Just prior to the sudden shift a thin veil of loose rock and dirt seemed to vibrate away from the cliff wall followed by larger rocks and sections of falling soil in a landslide. It was the second aftershock that seemed to knock McCoy off balance and he fell backwards off the ledge. He tumbled past Jim well out of reach, but it didn't stop him from reflexively extending his hand to his best friend as he screamed in a most raw and primal way while he helplessly watched him freefall to his death, "BONES! NOOOOOOO!"


	10. Aviophobia

Chapter 10- Aviophobia

I sat in my chair frozen by an unimaginable combination of numbness and grief. I couldn't think, I couldn't speak, and I couldn't breathe. I was aware things were going on around me- Spock was doling out orders, Jim and Sulu were yelling, and Scotty was saying something but it all sounded like so much muffled garble in my ears, deafened by the roar of blood as my heart pounded in my chest. I jumped to attention when Pavel placed his hands on my shoulders to shake me from my stupor. At first his lips moved silently although his eyes were wide with urgency, but slowly his voice became more clear. "Dr. Collins," he called shaking me gently, "ve have to go, vake up!"

It was like taking a breath after nearly drowning as I felt my body settle back into the reality that surrounded me. "Go where?" I asked still not entirely oriented.

"I have to go, you stay here." He commanded as he made a mad dash to the lift leaving only Uhura and I on the bridge. Spock, whatever he said or did, was already gone.

I turned in a daze to Uhura who could only look at me softly at first to let me know she could understand how I probably felt, but then she held her head up and her features hardened into something ferocious. "Work now, deal later." She advised. "The best we can do for them right now is our jobs." Once more she served as a model of strength that helped me pull myself together and I was in awe of her. "You good?" She asked expectantly.

"Yeah," I answered taking a few deep breaths to switch mental gears, "I'm good." I would no doubt fall to shambles after it was all said and done, but for the moment I could hold it together. McCoy was dead I had to tell myself. To think he may have somehow miraculously survived would eat up every scrap of mental wherewithal I had hoping and worrying so it was best to just pretend he never existed in the first place.

"Aye, Sir." She smiled. "Would you like a report?"

I stared at her blankly until it sunk in. I was for the time being the highest ranking officer on the bridge and it seemed grossly unfair. Just by virtue of her working up there every day she was far more qualified than I and this was one instance when the chain of command failed spectacularly. While I may have done at least a passable job with the Raven, this was the Enterprise for god's sake. I felt a swell of panic rising in my throat and suddenly I had a newfound appreciation for James Kirk and the pressure he faced on a daily basis as well as Scotty's steadfast refusal to take the reigns unless he had to. "Uh…" I stammered numbly, "sure, if that's what's supposed to happen." I had no clue because deck 5 never ran that way, but that was one department and this was more like central office.

"Commander Spock and ensign Chekov are preparing to assist the away team and should be ready to beam down in the next few minutes." She didn't bother asking the men to identify themselves so she could label the new boxes, it was plain to see which was taller by perspective and that was obviously Spock, so it was a fairly easy process of elimination. "Sickbay has been alerted and is on standby." She went on while her fingers glided rapidly across her station. Almost as though she conjured them, a phalanx of blue uniforms toting equipment entered the control room and took their places near Scotty with grim determination, patiently awaiting exactly what they probably had no idea, but whatever was to appear on the pad they would be ready. I faintly smiled because even though McCoy was known as something of a tyrant throughout the Federation who ran his sickbay with ruthless efficiency, ultimately it was clear he had trained them to be ready for anything when it really mattered.

"What's their plan?" I asked watching the screen. Try as I might I couldn't ignore the obvious. Of the now five boxes on display, only one was entirely black as though the feed had been permanently lost and it felt like a punch to the gut.

"As soon as Scotty deposits the new team, he'll bring up Sulu," she explained thankfully dispensing with all the formalities for the sake of expediency, "Spock and Chekov will assist with the..." she paused uncomfortably but decided to forge ahead, "recovery operation." It made sense and morbid as it might have been, the thought that the box his family would receive wouldn't be empty after all if Jim had anything to say about it was strangely comforting.

I remained midway between her station and Spock's because acting captain or not, I knew I didn't deserve to sit in the chair. Uhura was stuck following orders of an officer who just had an involuntary meltdown. There was no way she could trust me to make decisions if I needed to and why should she? I folded my arms and immediately after doing so I felt vaguely uncomfortable because that's what McCoy always did and it just felt wrong, so I let them dangle awkwardly at my sides.

I watched with bated breath as Spock and Chekov were beamed down. It seemed Scotty perfected things on his end a bit because they didn't literally fall out of the sky, but they were deposited further down the beach than intended. It took Chekov a second or two to work out his bearings, but when he did he was off like a shot sprinting down the stretch of wet sand with Spock in close second. In the meantime, Sulu's box faded to white and resolved again to reveal the ceiling of the control room. He was soon met by a bevy of blue uniforms and his box went blank and disappeared from the screen as Uhura cut his link. At least that was one who got to come home breathing, I thought darkly.

Jim was up and making his way down the narrow cliff face, hastily jumping the six foot drop Chekov told him about in a mad dash to get to where McCoy probably landed. "Bones!" He kept yelling although he never received an answer. All the while, the trail of red that streamed from the rip in his suit continued to grow longer down his shin but it didn't seem to slow him down one bit.

"Captain," Spock interrupted as he ran, "from your vantage point, can you see him?"

He stopped briefly and I wanted to look away. Falling from the height he did his body would be a mangled mess and I didn't want to see it. I knew the sight of him would haunt me until the end of my days and that's not how I wanted to remember him. "No," Jim panted, likely from his rapid and reckless descent and near hyperthermia. I chanced a look and all that was visible was a pile of rock at dirt about 15 feet below with Spock and Chekov closing in fast.

"Mr. Chekov, scan the area in the event Dr. McCoy ended up in an unexpected location." Spock commanded once they arrived before looking up at Jim, "Captain, your internal temperature is rising dangerously fast. It would be advisable for you to return to the ship or at minimum seek shade and rest."

"Noted, Spock, but not gonna happen." He declared jumping down the final few feet with a resounding thud. "I can't leave him." His voice was a heady mix of bravado and desperation and I couldn't imagine what must have been going through his head. One minute they were laughing on the ledge looking down and the next he was faced with trying to pick up the pieces of his broken friend if he'd even be able to find him.

"I thought the probability low." He all but sighed. "Might I then suggest we exchange suits. As you know, Vulcans prefer warmer climates, so the lack of thermal regulation will not be detrimental to me, yet my skin will still require ultraviolet protection as your does."

Jim sniffed and looked up at his second in command. "You heard what I said about sweating in this thing, right?" He double checked.

His voice was slow and careful but earnest. "While it will no doubt be most uncomfortable to be encased in your perspiration, it is the best option available for our dilemma."

"Fine. Race you." Jim declared peeling out of his clothing in less than 10 seconds leaving him in his black undershirt and pants, now clinging tightly to his body as though he pulled them straight from a washing machine and put them on. Spock handed him his dry and functional gear and silently wiggled into Jim's dirty, bloody, torn, and no doubt soggy one. Even though he was stoic about it all, it just had to almost be his worst nightmare.

"Captain! Mr. Spock! I found him!" Chekov yelled excitedly while he dug through the dirt like a dog unearthing a buried bone. Both men ran to the debris pile and sure enough, Pavel had partially uncovered an arm even though it was bent in an odd manner.

"Scotty!" Jim barked, "Beam him up! We need to get him to sickbay now!"

"Sorry, Captain." He lamented. "Ah cannae tell what's him and what he's stuck in. You'll have to uncover him some more."

We all heard Jim curse at his luck, but despite his own fatigue and injuries he dug like a machine moving fairly sizeable rocks on sheer adrenaline alone until a shattered helmet came into view. "No, Bones." He groaned tossing aside shards of yellow visor to reveal McCoy's dirty and bloody face.

Uhura reached over to lightly grab my wrist in silent support while she continued working and I bit my lip and tried to will myself not to cry. One of the most powerful tools of my trade was empathy which normally served me well because with it I could see the world through my patient's eyes rather than my own, but on this occasion it brought the entire awful incident into a sharply focused realism I couldn't escape. I could only imagine what went through his mind as he fell through the air away from Sulu and past his best friend, but if he was terrified at the prospect of certain death it didn't show on his face. From what I could see his expression was fairly neutral and despite the fear he probably felt it was my hope his last thoughts were of his daughter. There was no one he loved more and I sincerely hoped it was enough to bring him some semblance of peace at the end.


	11. Just Breathe

A/N: Thanks to those who have dropped a comment for this story! Now, back to McCoy...

Chapter 11- Just Breathe

Pavel continued to use his hands to shift mounds of dirt and rock away as though he were excavating a fossil and managed to make it up to McCoy's shoulder where he and Jim met efforts in his quest to clear away debris from his face and neck. It took Spock a few attempts to locate a leg when it was clear by his estimation it wasn't where it was supposed to be according to the orientation of the rest of the body, but once he did it was obvious it was because he had sustained a fractured femur bending it in ways legs weren't meant to.

Uhura glanced at me a few times and I realized I had been pacing which probably made her a bit uncomfortable, but I couldn't help it. I was watching my colleagues unbury the body of a man I had come to love like grave robbers stealing a corpse and it was unsettling. What was worse in my mind was what I knew was to come. As part of my job description it was my duty along with Jim to inform families when there were fatalities. More precisely, he was the one to tell them there had been an accident or the person died during battle or whatever the case was to be, but then it was my job to offer support and emotional first aid for their sudden grief. Previous to my position becoming official, McCoy had the unenviable task of doing so and I thought about how many meetings he must have had in the aftermath of the first battle with Saren when the bodies piled up behind me and the floors of sickbay became sticky with blood. In reality I'd yet to carry out that particular duty and in that moment I came to better appreciate McCoy's opinion that boring was best because at least that way no one died.

While it was never easy breaking such bad news to people, it seemed unreal that my very first one would be telling Joslyn the father of her child was dead. Even though she and McCoy had a fiery contentious relationship, surely even at least a small part of her would be sad at the loss of his life and not just access to his credits. And what would Jim tell Joanna? No doubt he would say her father was a brave man who died a hero trying to save Sulu's life and it wouldn't just be a pleasant lie to make the fact more palatable either. But she was still at an age when death is an abstract concept barely understood and I wasn't sure I'd be able to help her without the usual appeal used on children to avoid the issue of the idea of him living in a better place as though he simply went on vacation somewhere. I remembered him almost bitterly declining Leti's invitation to attend a church service with her by saying he'd searched the whole of space and never found God, so I knew him not to believe in such things. I didn't want to betray his beliefs but I knew it would be unsatisfactory to tell her he just simply stopped existing and would never come back even if that was probably more true to what he thought.

But would we even tell her at all? The truth was I didn't exactly know who he had listed as his contact for such things. It was of course in his records which I had full access to, but I never had a reason before now to look. I could see why he may not have chosen Josyln given their history, but if not her then who? The only blood relative who still spoke to him, Leti? Maybe his parents because even though they thought of him as being dead perhaps he wanted to let them know when he actually was as a last spiteful act?

It may not have been proper, but I approached Spock's console and accessed the ship's database to find out. If Uhura knew what I was up to, she didn't say anything and for that I was grateful. When I located the file I was looking for I smiled. "Of course." I mumbled to myself as I read the screen. "In case of emergency, contact: James Tiberious Kirk or Morgan Collins-McCoy." I knew my name probably wasn't even added by him directly, it was the result of who was listed first on account of our domestic partner status and his rigged paperwork. Jim's actions may have been questionable, but he had the good sense to completely cover his tracks it seemed. I was certain my file listed McCoy as a primary contact because he said as much when he appeared onscreen in our room scowling as usual after he was notified Bowen and I got into trouble at the Academy. I fondly remembered him glaring down at her while she was in bed hungover and sternly warning her not to ever think about getting me into trouble again before offering some helpful advice for her recovery. I thought about all the messages he sent not only to encourage me not to give up during my accelerated training, but to also cover the fact he was traveling to attend my graduation. I thought about the surprise jar of sand he gathered so I'd never feel too far from home, the photo that still held a prominent place in my quarters of he, Chekov and I in Chicago, and the sweet smell of peaches and fireflies in Georgia and I nearly lost my resolve.

"Captain," Spock called with a small measure of urgency that pulled me from the pit of my dispair, "he has a pulse. Very faint, but detectable nonetheless." I stood frozen in my spot looking in awe at Spock holding two fingers over the wrist of the arm Pavel found as though he were a god that just raised the dead.

Jim seemed nearly as shocked as I was. He remained staring at Spock for a second or two before he turned his attention quickly to McCoy and squatted down next to him. The gash on his knee was within view and separated in a sickly fashion, but that was the least of his concerns. "Bones?" He said gently patting his face through what remained of his helmet. "Bones, we're here and we'll get you back up right away, just hold on, ok?"

McCoy's eyes began to flutter and a small whimper escaped his lips while he was slowly regaining consciousness. He then squeezed them shut tight and grimaced as he only began to fully register the pain of his broken body which I could only imagine was horrendous. "Shit." Jim exclaimed looking around wildly. "Anyone see his bag? He has to have some pain meds left in there of something."

Spock and Chekov parted ways and began the frantic search, but it was Jim that located it just as the the current was attempting to pull it out to sea from where it landed on the beach. He started for the waterline, but Spock was after him in a flash. In one swift move he managed to catch up, incapacitate him with a nerve pinch while he ran past, and then deftly dive into the water to swim after it. Despite wearing heavy hiking boots, Spock was a surprisingly strong swimmer and managed to make it to the bag, strap it to his own back, and return all before Jim even realized what happened. Without any acknowledgement he strode past his captain's head while he lay there as though he were just sunbathing and continued on to McCoy, all the while rifling through the bag and issuing orders. "Mr. Chekov, please ensure the captain refrains from entering the water while wounded or makes no further attempts to otherwise endanger himself."

Pavel seemed unsure as he looked from Spock to Jim's still prone body. "Aye, Sir. I…" he took another glance between the two, "I vill try, but…" he trailed off. Pavel was a smart man but even he knew when he'd been tasked with an impossible feat.

"In that event, allow me to assist you." He offered clearly demonstrating he well understood the concept of implication. "Mr. Scott, one to beam up."

"Aye, but he's gonna be fit to be tied when he finds out." Scotty warned.

"His feelings on the matter do not concern me in this moment." He calmly explained breaking away the remaining pieces of McCoy's helmet to gently turn his head enough to administer an injection into his neck. "As he may say we have bigger fish to fry. Dr. McCoy is now in a low oxygen environment without the benefit of life support and what is very likely a chest injury making it extraordinarily difficult for him to breathe properly."

Pavel lingered only long enough after Jim began to shimmer to know he really was going to be taken away before he returned to McCoy to finish freeing him from his circumstances with as much vigor as he could muster. He understood time was of the essence. "Keep up your efforts, Mr. Chekov." Spock ordered looking down at McCoy's face which was a mix of pain and panic, his eyes wide open and almost desperate. Spock removed his helmet and I heard Uhura's small gasp to my left as it plopped down in the sand, facing away from the action. We were more or less left in the dark as to what was happening because Jim was now safely back and as Scotty predicted, irate enough at Spock's directive he sent his helmet careening into a wall once he figured it all out, knocking his box offline. Pavel was intensely focused on his chore, so all we got was the sound of his steady breathing and views of McCoy's body as it emerged from the debris. "Done, Sir!" He announced proudly as though he had just won a mole rat race. We only got a quick glimpse of Spock hunched over McCoy before Pavel looked up at the sky and yelled, "Mr. Scott, ready!"

"Aye, kid. Ah'm on it!" He called down excitedly. Uhura and I watched Pavel's only remaining view as the sandy beach receded into a brilliant white light and was reformed as a sea of blue uniforms that swarmed the pad, completely enveloping Spock and McCoy like a tidal wave.


	12. Complications

Chapter 12- Complications

If I thought McCoy being dead was hard to accept, the fact he wasn't but probably wished he were was worse. The injuries I saw were terrible, but I intuitively knew his condition was likely far more grave and just as I was helpless to stop him from falling then, there was nothing I could do to help him now. Chain of command dictated at least two people had to be on deck at all times so I was stuck until replacements arrived. I was dying to know what was going on with him, but to call down and demand an update would just take away precious seconds from staff that would better be spent on trying to save him. In the end I was left stewing in my own anxiety that made me feel like I was having a mild panic attack. Just because he survived thus far was no guarantee and as far as I was concerned, he was living on borrowed time. If he were ultimately to die, I at least wanted to say goodbye because I was robbed of that opportunity before and I didn't want it to happen again.

I was so wrapped up in my own thoughts I didn't even hear the soft hiss of the lift doors. "Alright lass," Scotty greeted somberly plopping down in the captain's chair, "off ya go. Ah'm sure ya did fine up here and all, but you're probably needed more elsewhere." He gave me a sympathetic smile and waved me toward the lifts. "Time to go home now if ya know what ah mean." I did know what he meant and I was grateful for his generosity. I knew well how he felt about covering the command and in reality he could've just disappeared back into the underworld of the ship to the comfort of his own department, but he chose to let me go and take my watch until Jim, Spock, or even Pavel was cleared for duty by medical. Sulu wouldn't be back for some time no doubt as he needed time to recover from his own injuries. I thanked him and gave Uhura a small nod of gratitude for her part as well. She casually smiled like it was no big deal and almost whispered "Go get him, Collins."

Deck 5 was usually a fairly busy place, but when I exited the lift I stepped into utter bedlam. It was as though a beehive had been disturbed and the entire floor seemed to buzz with intensely focused energy. People ran off in all directions with a sense of dire urgency and grim faces but despite the apparent chaos, what was actually taking place was a highly orchestrated dance of overlapping processes all geared toward eliminating every second of wasted time because in the end that was the only supply that couldn't be reprovisioned.

I dodged several medical crew members on the way into sickbay and it was fairly easy to tell where I needed to be. There was a good sized team at work reconstructing Sulu's broken bones by the far end of the unit. Pavel leaned against the wall, watching his now sedated friend and waiting for someone to give him a cursory look over before kicking him out. He seemed mildly concerned yet mostly bored as he yawned and resumed his position.

Spock was nearer the door seated on the edge of a biobed looking straight ahead as instructed by the nurse who scanned his eyes. I wondered if he sustained the severe retinal damage McCoy warned everyone about when he took off his helmet. That in turn made me wonder why he did so in the first place. He'd told me before his blood was copper based rather than iron which meant along with higher temperatures he could also withstand a reduced oxygen environment at least for a short time, but his eyes and skin were still at risk for burning so he must have had a reason. At least he still had it on when he went for a swim because it likely kept the toxic water out of his face. If McCoy lived through this and he found out Spock more than lifted his visor, he'd probably die of a heart attack if he didn't kill him first.

By far the bulk of the action was taking place at the center of the room where I supposed McCoy was. Medical staff of all stripes swarmed around him in huge numbers, so much so I couldn't actually see him. Once in awhile I caught a glimpse of his hand or the top of his ear and some hair but such was the constant wall of bodies I never quite could tell what was going on. They yelled over one another in a chaotic alphabet soup of acronyms and although I had at least some passing understanding of medical terminology, the conversation moved at a blinding pace and it all sounded like so much gibberish to me.

I found a spot on the wall next to Jim almost directly opposite Pavel and we just stood there in silence while he dutifully drank his water as he was ordered by McCoy. He finally shot me a sideways glance and irritably grumbled, "Now's not the time, Collins." I didn't even look at him, instead keeping my eyes trained on what scraps of McCoy's prone and bruised body I could occasionally see. Some patches of skin where I assumed the bone was fractured underneath were a disturbing shade of deep purplish red. I could imagine the physics of falling amidst a stream of loose rock was something like being in a tumble dryer full of bowling balls to say nothing of the sudden stop at the end. "The silence trick doesn't work on me by the way." He interrupted by thoughts to warn. "I'm fine with it."

"Good," I commended in a semi-detached tone "then shut up." His eyes went wide as though I physically slapped him across the face and if he had a mouthful of water I'd expect him to spit it out. I kept a neutral expression and explained, "It's not always about you, Jim."

He looked from me to his friend and back again and I could sense him settle down a bit with a hint of sadness. "Yeah," he admitted softly taking a small sip of his water, "I know." He needed to talk about it and so did I, but realistically neither of us were in a place to offer the catharsis or absolution the other needed as long as the death of the person we mutually deeply cared for was still a very real possibility. And so it was we stood together in silence, bound by unspoken fear and misery well into the night.

As one may expect with traumatic injuries as extensive as his, there were lots of moments when we thought we were in freefall. Airway collapses, systemic organ failure, sudden drops in blood pressure, the persistent threat of pulmonary embolism, stroke, or brain damage, and new or reopened internal bleeds that had to be tracked down and mitigated one by one. At first, each development was scary because just when he was deemed stable, contrarian he was, something totally out of the blue would send them all scrambling anew. But the longer Jim and I watched the more numb we became to it all. Not because we didn't care, because to some degree we came to understand that while each setback was disappointing, it wasn't necessarily unexpected either. There was a sense of urgency among the team when dealing with each new problem, but they were never panicked even if their patient was the CMO.

Once things settled down in the small hours of the morning and McCoy hadn't had any further major complications within the last two hours, Jim finally acquiesced to getting his knee looked at. While he sat back on the bed and the wound was sterilized and sealed with a few passes of a laser, I smirked. "Back in the day you'd have been in trouble. Way too late for stitches."

He seemed pleased with his recklessness. "Bones once showed me a picture of that in one of his medical books. I can't imagine having your skin held together for weeks with thread." He scrunched up his face in mild disgust. "And they used cat intestine?!"

"Yes, but that was way back." I chuckled. "I do have a metal plate and screws in my knee, though. McCoy was just as horrified as you about it and said something to the effect of that should've been used to fix door hinges not people."

"Really?" He asked looking down at my knees as though he had x-ray vision. "You know, he could probably take that out and fix it to do," he paused to gesture vaguely, "whatever it was meant to do." Almost as an afterthought he looked to the nurse and squinted curiously, "He could, right?"

The poor nurse probably had no idea what I was even talking about. He too glanced at my joints and gave Jim a wide eyed shrug to indicate his uncertainty before resuming what he knew best how to do. "It's fine. The hardware is titanium which will outlast me and the earth and besides," I smiled fondly, "it's sort of an antique souvenir." It wasn't exactly a well kept secret on the ship I was just a bit different than everyone else and for once it had nothing to do with Jim's gossip mill. In casual conversation, I was far more often than not lost when it came to references to places or events, so much so I usually carried a PADD with me to look things up if it seemed important. I didn't know if those more adjacent to me suspected the whole truth, but at the very least they probably assumed I was an odd duck with a lot of specific knowledge about the days before the Federation as though I majored in an obscure area in college.

After the nurse finished his work and cleared him for duty, Jim swung his legs over the side of the bed and let out a huge yawn while he stretched, wincing a bit as he did so. "I'll bet you're sore too." I observed sympathetically. "You got tossed around down there quite a few times."

He tried to give me his best Iowa farm boy 'aw shucks' smile, but it lacked its usual charm marred as it was by his obvious fatigue. "We all did, but of us I'm the only one who gets to walk out of here tonight, so I can't complain."

"It's not complaining if it's true." I quietly reassured him.

He hopped down testing his newly healed wound with a few quick squats and when he was satisfied, he walked past me on his way to see his crewmembers and sighed, "I really need to think about getting Scotty to open up that panel down the hall. You're starting to sound like Bones."

Even though it was nearly time for the day shift, he stood by Sulu's bed and looked down at his pilot with a sense of quiet determination for a few minutes. The team was able to repair his left arm and two ribs. It seemed his ankle wasn't broken afterall, although he did suffer a fairly serious sprain in his fall. Still, he would likely be kept for another day or two just to be sure he really would be ok to see to himself when discharged. Even so, I knew Pavel would be more than willing to help him if he needed it because as he once told me, that's what we did and it was just the way things were.

He then made his way to McCoy's side and what was determination collapsed into profound sadness. His voice was small and barely audible, but the words that fell from his lips were unmistakable. "I'm sorry, Bones" was all he managed before he quickly turned away and left the sickbay like a man chased by his inner demons.


	13. Man and Machine

Chapter 13- Man and Machine

The med bay was beginning to stir with anticipation of another day, but time really had no salience to me and I felt just as disoriented as when I first came on the ship. I hadn't slept in what felt like days, but sitting by McCoy's bed and finally taking in the entirety of the situation made me afraid to close my eyes. Being both the ship's counselor and technically his domestic partner I had legitimate access to his medical information and I stared down at the PADD that rested in my lap in trepidation. I was experiencing cognitive dissonance at it's best. If I just didn't look at his records I could still pretend it wasn't so bad afterall even though the rational part of my brain screamed there was ample evidence to the contrary. I took a deep breath and bravely began poking at it.

I didn't understand everything the file contained, stuffed as it was with imaging, lab results, and lists of medications that were all a bit beyond my scope of training, but I was able to read through narrative results of tests and the tangled web of medical terms to piece enough of the picture together. To no one's surprise he sustained double digit bone fractures including more worrisome ones of the pelvis, rib cage, and femur all of which posed serious threat of internal bleeding and respiratory problems. There was some evidence of diffuse brain swelling which was suggestive of a head injury, although I well knew the extent of such a thing was never certain until the person woke up. All these things were expected, but there was one bit of information that was not.

According to Spock's report, McCoy "..fell approximately 66 feet onto mostly soft sand and soil from a previous tremor. The suit and helmet provided some protection from blunt force trauma and abrasions, but LCDR McCoy made forcible contact with the rock face on six occasions during his descent which ultimately slowed his downward velocity. It is possible these events resulted in some significant physical damage, however, it is likely the majority of traumatic injury took place after landing when a large volume of soil and rock were deposited upon him. He was discovered by ENS Chekov who initiated recovery efforts. CAPT Kirk removed said debris from the face and chest and it was discovered the helmet had been heavily damaged. LCDR McCoy began to regain consciousness and analgesic medication was administered to the neck. Due to suspected chest injury and a low oxygen environment, it was determined manual life support was required."

I sat there numbly and read it again to be sure, but it all became clear. Spock took off his helmet in order to give McCoy mouth-to-mouth to help him breathe even though he knew it would damage his eyes, possibly to the point of permanent blindness. I was sure it was no coincidence his helmet was facing away when he tossed it aside either, and I was moved. I knew if I asked him about it he would probably try to rationalize it all away and as usual his logic would probably be sound, but it didn't make him any less of a hero to me in that moment.

I returned my attention to the man that lay in front of me and I couldn't help but think that although he always felt he had the worst luck, and in this case he really did, even though he was out of Jim's reach as he fell past maybe he was able to snatch some his captain's legendary good fortune on the way down. Some was luck to be sure to live through the initial fall, but in reality I knew his survival really was more science than mysticism. If he were rolled into the ER of the hospital I worked in at the time under the same circumstances he wouldn't be surrounded by the soft blips and beeps of machines, he'd be in a silent morgue with a tag on his toe.

But even though futuristic medicine was capable of things beyond what I could've ever conceived of, there were still limitations. Evolution of our million plus year old bodies simply couldn't hope to keep pace with technology. Although the medical team was able to mend his many broken bones and close internal wounds without leaving a scar, the human body was only capable of dealing with so much at one time. His kidneys were under constant stress from trying to filter fluid from swollen and torn muscles while the lymphatic system chipped away at all the blood which had been leaked under the skin. Rightfully the focus was on stabilizing the major injuries that immediately threatened his life, but that meant he still had a myriad of soft tissue damage in the form of sprains, bruises, and according to his chart a separated shoulder yet to be addressed. The laws of physics applied to planets and people alike: for every action there was an equal reaction. Scanners meant to knit bone back together caused inflammation of surrounding tissues, paradoxically trading one type of damage for another. What it all meant was his recovery was going to be a long process of doing what could be done with pauses to allow his body to rest and heal itself.

I stood to relieve the tension in my back from sitting in the chair by his bed and looked down. He was ashen pale, but now breathing on his own which was a good sign. Thanks to his helmet he had only minor cuts to his face, no doubt caused by the jagged edges of his shattered visor, but his head had otherwise been fairly protected. The same couldn't be said for the rest of him if the deep purple bruise that peeked out the collar of his shirt and across the back of his hand like spilled ink was any indication. His eyes were wrapped in a snowy layer of gauze and I knew from his chart he too sustained retinal damage that would require a few more treatments. I absentmindedly reached out to gently run my fingers through his hair and thought back to when he repaired the broken blood vessels in my eyes after I nearly got sucked out into space. I remembered it as being a relatively terrifying experience, but then again I was also functionally deaf and naturally had a thing about people messing with my eyes. To be sure, McCoy had his own fears and hangups, but I was reasonably sure that wasn't one them and it struck me as odd that he was often paranoid about what could happen but didn't panic about what actually did.

I pulled back a bit when his head slowly tipped in my direction and a quiet murmur settled in his throat. I knew he was heavily sedated which meant not all actions were completely voluntary nor were they to be taken as a sign of consciousness, but I froze in place waiting to see what happened next just in case. He didn't appear to be in any acute distress judging by his facial expression and the machinery concurred, at least at first. Slowly the lines in his face began to deepen and the monitors registered elevated heart rate and I just knew what was next. "Matthews!" I called to the nurse who discharged Jim pointing at the monitors with some urgency. He quickly read them from across the room and ran to the cart next to McCoy's bed. He removed a hypo from the top drawer and much like Spock did, injected him in the neck to ensure the medication made it into a major artery for rapid distribution throughout the body.

For the few torturous seconds it took for the drugs to work, I held his hand and bent down to stroke his hair and whisper into his ear, "Shhh, you'll be ok, Leonard. I'll stay with you" until I felt his body go slack and the machines again resumed their quiet lullaby. Sedatives had a way of obscuring and even preventing memory formation so I didn't know how much he was actually aware of, but nonetheless I felt compelled to try to offer what little comfort I could. Matthews looked down sheepishly as though he felt he were intruding and busied himself fixing the drip line carrying the drugs directly into McCoy's bloodstream that had somehow come loose.

Just as we agreed to from the start, McCoy and I never advertised our relationship but it wasn't exactly a secret either. Likewise, we were very careful to mind our no public display of affection unless behind closed doors policy and I realized that was probably what Matthews was reacting to, if not hearing me use his first name rather than last or even more formally prefacing it with his title of doctor as they all did. If the people who worked down there had any idea what his first name even was beyond his first initial, they didn't have the audacity to mutter it like it was some dark magic spell to conjure up evil incarnate. Matthews probably knew in some vague way were were more than coworkers, but had just never seen proof of it for himself resulting in a bit of awkwardness.

Admittedly it did feel a bit daring on my part and I was left once more trying to reconcile the professional I wanted to be and the person I was. In the end, I softly planted a kiss on his forehead and resigned myself to the reality that ours was not an either-or situation. Sometimes it was both and neither and try as we might, there would be times when we couldn't neatly delineate the two.


	14. Duty Calls

Chapter 14- Duty Calls

Jim and I were very different people with very different perspectives on how to best approach life, but one thing we could agree on was we were truthfully just a little too stubborn for our own respective good. Even though we all desperately wanted him to wake up, it was thought best to keep McCoy in a medically induced coma for a bit longer to give him more time to heal. He never had to worry about waking up alone because neither Jim nor I wanted to leave to the point we had to come to some sort of agreement least we both end up admitted to sickbay from exhaustion or fighting. We openly recognized that prolonged sleep deprivation did no one any favors, but neither wanted to actually leave and go lay down. He tried telling me sooner or later I'd have to do my job and check-in on Sulu and Pavel to make sure they were alright, and I countered he had an entire ship to run. He threatened to issue orders to me and I told him I'd take him out of service if he didn't start thinking rationally. Thankfully, were both staunch pragmatists at heart who's jobs entailed artful negotiation so mutually assured destruction was avoided when we compromised on a split shift schedule. Given the nature of our duties, I would remain in sickbay during the day so Jim could do his thing, but after dinner I had to go sleep while he stayed with his friend. He decided to make a bunk out the biobed next to him and more or less dared anyone to tell him he couldn't. No one did.

Like clockwork at 19:00 he rounded the corner of sickbay still chewing on the remainder of his sandwich. "Collins, you are relieved." He announced with his mouth full, gesturing for me to take a hike.

"Aye, Sir." I acknowledged with a half-hearted salute. "Nothing to report."

He looked down at his friend with his hands on his hips and swallowed the last bit of his dinner with some degree of effort. "I don't know if that's a good or bad thing." He admitted with a sigh. It had only been three days since the accident but it felt like decades.

"At least Sulu was cleared this afternoon." I offered gesturing to the now empty bed which was clean and ready for the next occupant.

"Not surprising. He's scrappy." Jim observed with a faint smile. "You get a chance to check him out?" For missions that involved potential or threatened loss of life, psychological clearance for duty had to be issued by me independent of McCoy's medical one if needed. It was mandatory for those directly involved, but optional for any support staff who may have been impacted by the whole affair. It was just one more thing I had to fit in somewhere when I had time and I felt a little bad about not being as prompt about it all as I probably should have been. I was usually pretty good about getting things done, but I had been a bit distracted as of late.

"Not yet because he was discharged on a 10 day medical so I have plenty of time there, but I did talk to Pavel while he was waiting for him." I answered with a slight shrug. "He's fine. A little bummed he wasn't there from the start and he did say he'd never really seen broken bones like that before and it made him feel a little sick, but he just focused on digging him out. Other than that, he's good."

Jim folded his arms and smiled broadly. "Yeah well, even if you have it's not something you get used to I guess unless you work down here. By the way, Scotty's technically support staff on this one but you know, maybe it might be nice…" He hinted heavily. Jim was the kind of man who for his own reasons didn't always take care of himself, but he certainly wanted the best for his crew and it was clear he was concerned about his engineer.

"I can do that." I agreed easily only because I knew the next part wouldn't be. "But you weren't support staff." I bluntly charged.

His eyes darted around quickly and it was as though I could see him internally frantically digging through the files in his brain to try to get out of it. "The whole psych clearance thing was your policy, remember?" I gently nudged. Shortly after my promotion he presented me with a long list of new tasks and initiatives. I wondered if he had too much spare time on his hands or was just trying to ensure he got his money's worth.

He knew he had painted himself into a corner on that one and he bit his lip in frustration. "Fine." He nearly growled rolling his eyes.

"And then there's Spock." I sighed heavily.

"Oh, yeah." He nodded quietly letting his arms fall to his sides. "He's still on a medical. I think he's got a day or so left. I still can't believe him."

"Which part?" I asked incredulously. "He had quite a few moments there. His quick thinking saved the day several times."

"I guess so, but did he really have to nerve pinch me?" He whined rubbing his neck muscles as though it just happened. "And even after Bones nearly gave us all PTSD describing what would happen to our eyes he takes his helmet off?!"

A sneaky smile wound its way across my face and asked, "Do you know why he did it though?"

He stopped trying to ease his phantom pain and looked blankly at me. He obviously hadn't read the report yet and it made me feel just a little bit better about myself knowing I wasn't the only one who was slipping. "He made me swap suits with him, so I assumed he rigged the oxygen system in it to give it to Bones." He said cautiously.

I couldn't help myself from letting my conspiratorial glee show. "Close, but he took a more direct route."

Jim began to smile and he reflexively looked down at McCoy. "No shit?" He asked clearly amused. "Wow. Just…" he was almost at a total loss for words. "I mean, it makes perfect sense, but I couldn't imagine two of the most unlikely people. Wouldn't be his first, but I think it's his first Vulcan." He chuckled, clearly alluding to being kissed rather than being rescued. "Wonder what he'll think when he wakes up?"

He once before insinuated McCoy either tried or successfully kissed him after a night of drinking while they were at the Academy and I wondered what that whole scene probably looked like because Jim made it sound like he was the more lucid of the two. "I don't know if he knows it or not. His eyes were open, but it's hard to know how much he was actually aware of." I said quietly.

Jim picked up on my tone and added darkly, "Yeah, hopefully nothing. The less he knows the better."

"Well, I think we'll be ok as long as we all agree not to discuss the more graphic things with him unless he asks about it. Triggering memories he's not ready for..." I immediately froze at Jim's uncomfortable expression which clearly telegraphed the fact that particular cat was already out of the bag and then it hit me. "Oh my god." I sighed with dread. "The helmets were recording, weren't they?"

He raised his eyebrows and replied, "Yep" making a popping sound with his lips at the end.

I should've known. Now it made sense why McCoy shot a perturbed glare at Sulu when he said I could watch a video of Saren's ship being obliterated if I didn't believe him he was actually dead. Sulu didn't make some illicit bootleg snuff film for his own purposes, the encounter was recorded as a matter of protocol. The file would have always been there, McCoy was just upset at him telling me it existed in the first place. If McCoy's morbid curiosity got the better of him and he wanted to see for himself what had happened, he knew just where to look and there was nothing anyone could do about it. "Can you restrict his access or something?" I asked hopefully.

"Not technically, but you can." He smiled at me as though he was a little bit sorry, but mostly glad that for once he could pass that particular hot potato off to someone else. "If you think it would be psychologically damaging to his wellbeing and impair his ability to carry out his duties, then well…." he implied as though there was nothing else to be done.

"You want me to essentially put a parental block on that for him." I double checked. "He is going to go absolutely nuclear."

"Probably." He agreed looking down to his friend. "But we all have to make tough choices." He may have been thinking about McCoy's decision to put himself in peril to help Sulu, but he very well may have been referring to himself- either would have been valid.

"Speaking of tough choices, Jim, did you know when Spock and Chekov left to go down to you guys he apparently decided it was a grand idea to leave me in charge?" I asked curiously. "I probably shouldn't have to tell you in reality I was not fit for duty in that moment." My voice dropped off at the end and I couldn't help but feel the sense of shame at losing my ability to think straight wash over me again like a tide I just couldn't hold back. "I'm sorry, I…"

He cut me off with a wave. "No, no. Don't start." He warned giving me a stern look. "If you have a problem with Spock's decision you need to take it up with him, but don't give me the damsel in distress routine. I'm not a counselor, but I'd like to think I'm pretty good at reading people." He narrowed his eyes like he could smell blood in the water, but grinned slyly to let me know he wasn't mad at me. "Too late, Collins. I know you better than that. Everyone has moments of doubt and everyone makes mistakes, but I've seen you at your worst and even then you were better than most."

I couldn't help but smile warmly at his assessment of me even if that wasn't how I saw myself at all. What Jim didn't know was that I was only successful on the Raven because McCoy first set an example of how to run a ship full of scared young crewmembers who were never meant to see battle before he left. I was only able to hold it together as Saren's prisoner even as my blood spilled onto my boots because I just knew deep in my soul Jim would figure out a way to help me or at least die trying. And if he thought I did even a passable job this time, it was all because of Pavel who took the time to wake me from my stupor even as it delayed his own urgent orders and Uhura who had the presence of mind to kindly but firmly reframe the horrifying situation in a way that I could mentally cope with. I didn't think he knew these things, but then again maybe in his own way he very much did.


	15. Turning Tables

Chapter 15- Turning Tables

It never ceased to amaze me how quickly humans could adapt to strange circumstances. By the end of day five, it almost seemed normal for McCoy to be rendered utterly unaware as though he existed in a universe all his own parallel to ours and there was a part of me that wondered if he actually preferred it that way. Aside from the bruises that were fading from bluish purple to yellowish green in some parts and the rough stubble that now covered his face, not much else had changed since he was first stabilized. But I knew looks were deceiving. Despite the placid surface there was quite a bit going on at the cellular level to aid in his recovery, so in that way it was a constant work in progress.

After Jim sent me packing for the night, I knew my shift wasn't quite over. It was the last day of Spock's medical leave and if he was to return to work the next day, I had to get his clearance processed. Failure to meet the deadline was not an option when the patient was my direct commanding officer and he kept his appointment down to the millisecond. "Dr. Collins, Captain." He greeted upon entering the sickbay where Jim and I stood. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Jim heave a small defeated sigh. No matter how many times he told Spock he didn't need to address him by rank when off duty, it seemed to be something of a game between them. "Am I to assume there remains no change in Dr. MCoy's condition?"

Jim glanced back at his friend as though he was really fine, but just stubbornly chose to remain unconscious. "The last report I got was they fixed his shoulder and it seems the swelling in his brain's gone down. They may let off the sedatives and let him wake up as they wear off."

"A positive development." Spock genuinely commended before turning to me. "Doctor, I do not wish to redirect you if this an inopportune time to keep our appointment."

"Nah," Jim cut me off before I could even draw a breath to answer, "she was just leaving." He playfully waved at me with a wicked grin. "Bye, bye, Collins."

I gave him an equally acidic smile and replied, "Good night, _Captain_." I motioned for Spock to follow me to the office where I sat at McCoy's desk so he could have my seat. In all the time we were shoehorned together in the tiny office I never had occasion to sit at his desk and he never sat at mine. It felt uncomfortable like I was violating his personal space, but I tried to act like it didn't bother me and took a deep breath to begin, "Thank you for coming, Spock."

He remained standing by my desk with a blank expression. "There is no need to thank me, Doctor. I am doing you no favors by following protocol."

So he was going to make this hard. "No, but you were on time and I appreciate that." I countered quickly moving on before he spent the entirety of our time arguing minutiae. "We both value efficiency so to business, shall we?"

He seemed somewhat amused and cocked his head slightly. "I agree." His voice was a shade of cheerful that gave me hope we could just get it over with.

"Great. Let's start with the suits." I proposed looking around me for my PADD to take notes. I realized I probably left it by McCoy's bed, but surely he had one in his desk I could use so I began my search while I pressed on, "You said you thought it was a mistake to alter the construction..." I slid the top right drawer open and my voice caught in my throat. Just under a slightly rusted metal flask that was no doubt being actively corroded by Scotty's moonshine concoction lie a copy of our domestic partnership certificate. That seemed like an odd enough thing for him to have laying around as it was, but I was utterly perplexed by the fact it was framed.

"Doctor?" Spock called expectantly slightly raising an eyebrow. "I am unable to telepathically communicate if that is what you are attempting. Are you feeling well? Your face has lost its color."

I slowly pushed the drawer closed and neatly folded by hands on the surface of the desk as though I just discovered it contained a bomb, but wasn't really sure how to tell him. "Uh...yeah." I bravely replied trying to get my mind back on track. "So the suits. You said McCoy objected, but you felt it was better to include the copper mesh. That ultimately limited his ability to use his tools on Sulu. Any regrets?"

His eyes settled back into business mode and he was quick with his answer. "None. It was a possibility that indeed resulted in delayed care for Mr. Sulu's injuries, but as I stated it was a necessary gamble."

"Ok," I cautiously ventured, "when you determined you and Chekov needed to assist the away team..." I paused to think of a tactful way to phrase my question about his delegation without making it sound like I was whining or making the meeting about me, but it was challenging. He again cocked his head when my thoughts stopped midstream and narrowed his eyes slightly. He was probably either losing patience with me or perhaps suspicious I was having a stroke. "You made an ...interesting choice for command." I finally spat out.

He seemed utterly confused. "I am uncertain of how appointing Lieutenant Uhura to the command in my absence is of interest. I did not violate the two person present rule as you were also there, although unfit, which is why she was made acting captain with support from Mr. Scott if required."

His words 'although unfit' stung a little more than they should have even though it was true. "That's not what happened." I tried to keep the shakiness out of my voice. "She said it was my job."

He didn't move in the slightest. "Then that was her choice to do so." To the casual observer his voice would have probably sounded neutral and to some degree it was, but I couldn't help but pick up on the hint of disappointment in her decision and by proxy me.

It felt like a punch in the gut and I looked down to the desk, but forged ahead. "And once there you had to locate and unbury McCoy. You also had to remove your helmet to assist his breathing, causing damage to your eyes." I reminded.

"Yes." He agreed matter-of-factly. He looked to the floor, for the first time seeming to feel something about all of it before his eyes again hardened with their usual resolve. "An unfortunate necessity. Although I could live without eyesight, Dr. McCoy would not have survived without oxygen." He stated dispassionately.

I just really wanted this all to be over with. "Any reaction to that? Any problems sleeping since?"

"My sleep patterns have not been altered and my vision has been corrected to its former acuity." He reported.

"Great." I sighed sitting back in the chair. "If anything pops up for you, then come see me. Otherwise, have a good day at work tomorrow." My tone may have held just a bit more vinegar than I intended and I wondered if McCoy's eternal irascibility had permeated the chair and somehow seeped into my very bloodstream.

He vacillated between leaving and staying for just a moment before swallowing and in a surprisingly supportive timbre stated, "Doctor, if I may address what you might call the elephant in the room." I sat looking dumbfounded at him. He told me shortly after I met him he planned to brush up on colloquialisms and it seemed he had. "According to policy, you are to clear all involved, which in this event Dr. McCoy and the captain remain. No matter his reticence, the captain will ultimately submit to your examination."

I knitted my eyebrows and asked, "What are you getting at?" I was pretty good at picking up implication and it might have been a bit petty, but I just wanted him to suffer through saying it.

"I could not help but draw a parallel between your reaction upon seeing the Romulan Saren for the first time after your arrival and the behaviors you displayed on the bridge." His eyes were slightly soft and while his voice was firm it wasn't at all accusatory. "It would seem, doctor, you were temporarily overwhelmed by intense feelings of personal loss that rendered you almost unaware of your environment. While understandable, such events are rarely temporary and have a way of lingering in a manner that impacts personal and professional functioning. It is not lost on me that under normal circumstances you would consult professionally with Dr. McCoy when required, but he remains at the moment indisposed." I sat quietly and regarded him with a neutral expression. I didn't think the silence trick would work on him at all, but apparently it did because he continued although by the time he was done I really wished he hadn't. "The simple fact is, you are not immune to policy." His point landed just as heavily as though he drove his fist through the desk shattering it into bits.

"I was at best support staff on this." I slowly stated. "So it's optional by the rule of law."

"But not the spirit." He calmly countered. "I have reason to believe that you were negatively impacted by the away team's events and will likely require assistance. I do not profess to be as skilled in your occupation as you or even Dr. McCoy, but I am your commanding officer which places me in a position of carrying out this duty."

I rubbed my face in frustration. "So what you're telling me is you, Scotty, Jim, McCoy, and I are essentially all locked together in a perpetual circular firing squad?" I sighed. "Who gets to pull the trigger first depends on the circumstances." I mumbled glumly. The more I learned about how things worked on a practical level, the more I came to realize Scotty really was a genius. By making the conscious decision to remain in engineering, he largely kept himself above and out of the fray and I started wondering about my prospects of transferring out of medical and into his department. I wasn't sure if machines had bad days or feelings they needed to talk through, but I was willing to give it a shot.

His eyes grew a bit dark as he glanced to the floor in contemplation. "It seems you and Dr. McCoy share an interest in utilizing vividly violent mental imagery to illustrate your point. Fascinating." He quietly observed.

"But not effective." I reminded him. "Didn't seem to keep you from taking your helmet off."

He looked to me with a placid expression that was unapologetically stoic. "As I stated, doctor, it was a necessity. Sometimes personal sacrifice is required for a greater good. It was true then and it remains so now." His lips curled into a hint of a smile as he added, "So I will expect you to report at your earliest convenience." He didn't really want to tango anymore than I did which was at least just a little reassuring, but he obviously felt he had a duty to carry out even if he'd really rather be doing literally anything else.

After he left I rested my elbows on the table and held my head in my hands. He was right and I knew it, I just couldn't find it in myself to admit I needed help- at least not from anyone but McCoy. He and I lived similar lives so I felt he could better understand the hangups and pitfalls of the misery business we both traded in without judging me too harshly- he just innately got it without much explanation.

The thing about being in a job where the primary function was procuring and keeping secrets was a person tended to become so good at it that nothing escaped- not even their own thoughts or feelings. The thought of having to be interrogated by Spock was terrifying and suddenly I was reminded how others must have felt when I came to visit them. Even though it was never my intent to frighten anyone and I always tried to be neutral and open to whatever anyone had to say, it was very different to be on the other side of the table and I wanted nothing more than for McCoy to just wake up.


	16. Dr Spock

Chapter 16- Dr. Spock

I couldn't sleep. It happened from time to time, but it seemed the last week or so not even sheer exhaustion could knock me unconscious for any good length of time and I could feel the edges of my being beginning to fray. My patience was a bit thinner than usual and I had fallen back into the habit of subsisting only on coffee because I wasn't hungry. If McCoy knew about that, he'd have a fit no doubt. Still, remembering his profound medical advice to me to put something in my mouth and chew if I was hungry made me smile. He certainly had a way of being direct which left absolutely no doubt as to where he stood on things that seemed to come to him as naturally as breathing. I layed in bed for awhile, but finally decided to just get up because it was clear there would be no further rest for me.

It was about four in the morning and the ship was quiet save for the constant soft drone of the engines as they propelled us through space. There were only a few people in the halls I wandered and each seemed just as startled to see me as I was them. Unlike me, they seemed to actually have a destination in mind so interactions were kept to casual eye contact and maybe a brief smile in passing. For lack of a better place to be, I meandered my way to the only other place that felt acceptable: deck 5. I cautiously peeked around the corner of the sickbay doors least Jim spot me first. He could be pretty territorial and I was sure he would think me being down there was cheating, but he was sprawled out cold on the biobed, hair in a ruffled mess and tangled up in a blanket as dead to the world as his friend next to him and I envied him.

Tempting fate, I quietly tiptoed my way around the backside of the unit so I wouldn't have to walk directly past him to get to McCoy's bedside. I carefully moved the chair close to him making sure not to accidentally scrape the legs against the floor and gingerly sat as though I feared it would fall apart under me. I wasn't sure if Jim was a light sleeper or not, but to my relief he never once stirred. "Hey," I whispered to McCoy grasping his warm hand, "just wanted to sneak down here and see how you were." I was reasonably sure he couldn't hear me and the muscles in his hand didn't even twitch under my gentle pressure, but senseless as it was I felt a one way conversation was better than nothing. "I know you're busy and all, but I've missed you." I admitted. "I mean, I can still hear your voice in my head but it's not quite the same. I'm still waiting for you to come back and tell me about your trip." Realizing I probably made another bad joke, I hastily muttered, "Sorry." I sat there for a few minutes watching him breathe lightly before placing another goodbye kiss on his forehead. "I gotta go before Jim wakes up and finds out I snuck out in the wee hours of the morning to see you." I playfully whispered close to his ear. "I don't want him to ground me." I readjusted and smoothed the blanket over his chest and exited the way I came.

I figured if not deck 5 or my room, the only other place I could reasonably be was 10 forward. Perhaps I could get a coffee and take a seat by the huge window and gaze out into the darkness decorated with points of light like diamonds scattered across black velvet until it was close enough to my shift to be believable. I sat staring out at the scene that stretched before me and while I was just as much in awe of it as I ever was, my expectations had been tempered somewhat by experience. Space still held a certain fascination for me in terms of being the great unknown full of promise, but McCoy was right- it was also an expanse of great peril. I jumped slightly when a low voice behind me calmly asked, "Doctor Collins, may I share your table?"

I looked around the room at all the empty spaces and then to Spock and couldn't help but smile because not so long ago the tables were turned and it was I almost intruding on him in an otherwise empty cafeteria. "Of course." I granted with a small chuckle. Judging by his demeanor and ever so subtle smirk as he sat opposite me he remembered it as well and did it on purpose. "Giddy for your first day back?" I asked sarcastically. I wasn't sure Vulcans got giddy about anything and I was even less sure of what it would look like if they did.

Predictably his tone was even as he replied, "I do not forsee any events that may overwhelm me." He paused to cock his head slightly and narrow his eyes as though he were thinking deeply. "But then again one can never be certain with the captain." He quickly shifted his attention and tone and inquired, "Did you not sleep well, Doctor? It is not abnormal for me to arise at this time but if I'm not mistaken, humans tend to prefer longer sleep periods." I tried to casually shrug it off, but that only prompted him to raise an eyebrow and dig in deeper. "I will take your silence as affirmative."

I in turn raised my eyebrow and with playful swagger asked, "Do you really want to try to play mind games with me, Spock? Because tired or not I will take you down. You may have all the logic in the world, but come at me and I'll twist it all up like a balloon dog on you."

He at first seemed thoroughly confused, but then bemused once he figured out the reference. "I have no desire to engage in a bout of mental warfare," he assured me even though there was just a bit of condescension in his voice that truthfully I couldn't blame him for, "however, I do find this an opportune time to complete our mutual task. Do you agree?" It was clear he wasn't really asking because he knew I had no other place to be but right there. He had me cornered and suddenly I felt like Jim trying desperately to escape McCoy and his loaded hypo.

I sighed and resigned myself to my fate. "I suppose." I mumbled like a child who was just told to go stand in a corner. My only hope was he would show as much mercy to me as I did him, but then again wasn't he surprisingly understanding when I lay on my bed sobbing while watching a rotating picture of Earth after the truth of how I came to be here sank in?

"Very well," he cautiously ventured in a low voice that strained to hide the uncertainty he felt, "can you describe your internal experience after witnessing Dr. McCoy fall?"

I took a deep breath to calm and center myself. I learned the hard way after Saren that dealing with traumatic memory can sometimes be like grabbing an eel by the tail- I might get shocked or I might not, but I'd better be ready for it either way or else end up back in sickbay having another panic attack. But this time McCoy wouldn't be there to watch over me until it subsided which made it all feel much worse. I closed my eyes and tried to slowly conjure up that part of my memory, careful to maintain distance between what happened and the full crushing force of how it all felt. "I was terrified, like a part of me was falling with him and would be lost forever. I wanted so badly to somehow stop it, but I knew I couldn't and it felt unfair to have it…" I paused to self correct in order to force myself to own up to it all, "...have _him_ taken from me." After the words fell from my lips I immediately felt ashamed. "I know that's selfish." I softly muttered into my lap. "Sometimes I wish I were at least part Vulcan like you. I might have handled it better."

Out of the corner of my eye I saw him look to the table and swallow before he quietly said, "To care for another as you do Dr. McCoy is the opposite of selfish. You felt the way you did because of your attachment to him, one strong enough to intertwine at least a part of your identity with his making his loss also yours. I remember a doctor once told me that emotions were not to be avoided entirely because they add richness and texture to experience and I agree with her, even when those circumstances are unpleasant."

"She sounds like a biased idiot." I smirked, knowing he was referring to me.

He returned the faintest of smiles that quickly faded. "Although I may be partly Vulcan, I assure you it did not assist me when I was in much the same circumstance as you find yourself now."

I looked up at him in surprise and I felt my clinical instincts kick in. "What do you mean?" I gently prodded turning toward him slightly to let him know he had my full attention.

I could see it in his eyes- he immediately regretted it because he just ceded control of the conversation and he knew I wasn't about to let him walk that one back. It was his turn in the hot seat and his tone was somewhat short, I supposed to acknowledge the fact he was going to answer but not at great length and I shouldn't plan on further follow-up. "I told you of the destruction of my planet shortly after your arrival. What I chose not to share with you at the time was I was on it as it was collapsing under my very feet." He stopped and lowered his eyes as though he too was trying to keep the emotional flood at bay. "And I told you of my mother." I could see he was internally struggling, so I sat patiently in the silence until he was ready to continue of his own accord. "She chose to fall away from my grasp in order to save my life, rendering me unable to save hers."

"Oh, Spock." I sighed heartbroken for him. "I'm so sorry. From what you've told me she was a wonderful woman. She obviously loved you dearly." He gave a curt nod in agreement and I was never so glad I let him keep my wedding ring. He had nothing of substance to remember her by and I hoped it was able to bring him some sort of comfort even if it was only shades of her. Suddenly everything fell into perspective for me. As terrifying as it was to watch McCoy fall, practically speaking I was about 100 miles above him in orbit. I simply couldn't fathom being inches from him as Spock was from her. And as anxious as it still made me feel that for all intents and purposes he remained not much more than a warm body on a bed, he was just that- warm and alive. At the very least I could go and hold his hand and kiss him again even if he wasn't aware of it which was a hell of a lot more than Spock's final memories of his mother.

"So as you see, Dr. Collins, I have a firm understanding of your experience and I know that effects of such can linger well beyond the event itself. Dr. McCoy and I have had a number of misunderstandings and differences of opinion over the years we have worked together, but I am reasonably certain he and I would both be in agreement on this matter. Do not think it has gone unnoticed you have reduced your intake of food and tonight's episode of roaming the halls is not the first after extended hours in sickbay. These are classic human responses to stress that will eventually result in compromised health."

"Yeah, I know." I snapped a bit testilly. I didn't need a lecture on the topic and what did he want me to do about it? Force food I didn't want down my throat and will myself to sleep at night? It just wasn't that easy.

Thankfully he didn't react much to my outburst and only mildly observed "And decreased frustration tolerance."

"Ok, Spock. I get it." I sighed in frustration. "This is a potential problem for you that you want to try to solve before it gets worse and I respect that. So today I will try to stick to my shift, try to eat better, and perhaps meditate before bed. Sound like a good treatment plan?"

"It would if I believed you." He leveled flatly. I just sat there slack jawed- did he just openly call me a liar? "But you will work longer than necessary because it is a distraction from your anxiety and allows you convenient reason to remain near Dr. McCoy. You likely won't eat because you lack the appetite which has been suppressed by your mood and high levels of caffeine. And as for meditation you may try, but until you are able to accept that you are not in control of the things that matter most to you, then you will continue to experience sleep disturbance." He didn't blink once so strong was his conviction and all I could do was just sit there dumbstruck at how accurate he was. A hint of a smile softened his face and he continued, "As I stated, I do not pretend to be as proficient in your occupation as you, but I remember a doctor once told me that human behavior is not so complicated to predict once motivation and personality is accounted for."

"You need to stop hanging around this person," I advised, "she sounds dangerous."

"Only incidentally to herself at times." He paused and raised an eyebrow as though he may be mistaken, "Unless others attempt to harm her crewmates, then…" his voice lilted a bit to indicate his uncertainty, no doubt hinting to the whole Queen Sentia and the Aurelians debacle.

I couldn't help but laugh. "Now I know for a fact you know what implication is."

"I never stated otherwise." He defended in an innocent tone. "As with most things I do so only when it is to my advantage."


	17. Relapse

Chapter 17- Relapse

Spock was right- of course he was. When was he ever dead wrong about anything? As uncomfortable as the damn chair next to McCoy's bed was, I couldn't seem to pry myself out of it for love or money. It was psychologically comforting if not physically. It was only four hours into my shift and I had already broken a promise to Spock because I knew there was an empty seat at the lunch table down in 10 forward with my name on it. But this was my time and I didn't want to give it up for anything. I couldn't.

I leaned forward and rested by head on my arms on the side of his bed near him. I was so desperately tired, but there was no rest to be had. I knew all I had to do was ask one of the nurses and they would no doubt give me a light sedative to help me sleep without batting an eye, but truthfully I didn't want to sleep. I wanted to stay awake and watchful and caffeine was no longer working. When Spock noted I wasn't sleeping, I took a page out of his own book and omitted the fact it wasn't simply due to stress, although it didn't help, but when I closed my eyes I was usually awakened by terrifyingly vivid nightmares. Sometimes it was about McCoy and feeling utterly helpless while I watched him fall to his death over and over again, but mostly they were hyperrealistic flashbacks of some of the darkest moments of my own life. Things I tried very hard not to remember. Things I never found the courage to ever tell McCoy about even when he asked me to trust him the last time something like this happened. I had always been inherently cautious not to let others into my head for as long as I could remember, but he said it himself: he couldn't stand listening to horror stories so I purposely spared him. I thought I buried them deep, but like a zombie they managed to claw their way back into my consciousness to haunt me reawakened by the threat of utter loss, both of a man I allowed myself to love and ultimately control of what might happen after. I couldn't even begin to fathom what life on the ship would be like without him. It would no doubt feel as dark and vacuous as the space we traveled through while the small office we shared would become a confined coffin haunted by his memory.

All I knew was that I couldn't go on as I had and I couldn't handle it on my own power anymore. Spock, whatever his ultimate motivation, was at the end of the day my direct officer and therefore the last person I would spill my guts to. Jim might have entertained me for a bit, but he would be the first to admit he was just as screwed up as me if not more so and was it really fair to heap yet another responsibility onto his shoulders to bear? I'd only been down to Scotty's office once on unofficial business. He was a good host to be sure and he might even intently listen to me whine about the pressure I felt, but I could almost hear his voice between sips of his best private stash whiskey, 'Aye, Ah hear ya lass, but life's shite is it not? There's nothin' to be done until ya die.' Pavel, Uhura, and Sulu were probably the closest people I'd feel even remotely comfortable in confessing to, but it felt grossly inappropriate like a parent discussing marital problems with the children. All I had was McCoy and in reality I didn't even have him for the foreseeable future.

I wish I had a better rationalization than I did other than I was who I was and old habits died hard- if at all. It all came back so easily to me it was frightening. I calmly stood from my seat and headed straight for the supply closet where the racks of drug vials were kept. I'd been in sickbay long enough to know each class of drug was color coded and I knew the one I wanted had a yellow cap. While I really had no real purpose for being in there, I knew no one would question me if nothing else because of my rank. I stashed a few vials into my pocket and peeked around the corner to be sure no one would see me. When the coast was clear, I casually strolled past McCoy's prone body without a second glance and shut the door to the office. I slid the middle drawer of his desk open because I knew he usually stashed a spare hypo there in case he was called to an emergency and needed one in a hurry. I'd watched him load plenty of the instruments with vials before and it took a minute to set the dosage, but it wasn't that difficult to figure out. His instructions to me on how to use it when I figured out he actually could give injections without it feeling like I'd been shot rang in my head '_Just pull the trigger. It's not hard- a trained monkey could do it_' but still there was something holding me back.

This was wrong for so many reasons and I felt sick with guilt. It was a betrayal of everyone's trust and I knew it. But such was the depth of my desperation for relief it didn't stop me from taking a deep breath and pulling the trigger much like one does before doing anything stupidly dangerous like diving out of an airplane or jumping off a cliff. The soft hiss of the hypo seemed like it was condemning me in its own right, but the feelings of guilt and shame were replaced a few minutes later with a warm, buzzing energy. Opiates were never my thing, but stimulants very much were. It was like being embraced by a long lost lover. It was ok, I told myself. It's just once and it wasn't even that big of a dose. It's no big deal- no one will ever know. Mentally I didn't feel that great about it, but physically I felt amazing which was what I chose to focus on. I had to because I knew I couldn't live with my decision otherwise. The end had to justify the means.

There was only the briefest of moments between when I heard a knock at the door and when Sulu's face peeked around it hesitantly. "Dr. Collins?" He called a little sheepishly, "I don't want to bother you if you're busy, but medical cleared me for light duty yesterday and I was wondering if I could get yours so maybe I can get back to work tomorrow?"

I deftly slipped the hypo into my pocket like the practiced thief I used to be and waved for him to come in. "I'm sorry, Sulu," I sighed gesturing for him to sit at my desk, "I heard about it, and I...well, I've been a little busy." In my defense, it was a little surprising medical lifted his 10 day restriction early, but I hoped it was because he just managed to heal fairly quickly from his injuries and not because he whined enough to persuade them to out of boredom. Since McCoy didn't personally approve his discharge, it was possible he could have slipped under the wire if he got a fairly sympathetic resident to sign his papers. McCoy was a lot of things, but sympathetic to whining about his orders he definitely was not.

It was a pretty lame excuse and he deserved better than to be forgotten, but if it even occurred to him he didn't show it. He glanced toward the direction where McCoy lay out in sickbay and his expression was serenely compassionate. "Sure, I understand." He nodded agreeably. "How is he?" He seemed genuinely concerned which was touching. If Pavel just sort of got me and was perfectly fine with just quietly being present, McCoy's ranting never really seemed to bother Sulu as though he understood where it was all coming from.

"Better than we hoped." I admitted dryly. "They're considering letting him wake up as the drugs wear off."

"I hope so." He turned to me with the most mournful eyes it almost took my breath away, but his voice was calm and steady. "He saved my life you know. He didn't have to climb up there with an extra 30 pounds strapped to him, but he did and he did it to try to help me. No matter what anyone says about him, he's a hero even if he'll never believe it."

"And he won't." I agreed wholeheartedly. "You can tell him that when he wakes up, but he'll just say he was doing his job and then threaten you with some horrible outcome if you tell anyone else about it." I laughed.

Sulu's face softened with a smile and he too chuckled. "Yeah, I know but it's too late. I already gave my statement to the captain and Mr. Spock for the official record, so…." he tossed his hands up in mock helplessness, "it's not my fault if he accidently gets a commondation out of it."

"Well, the captain will do whatever he decides is best even if Dr. McCoy will be livid about getting a medal in front of the entire ship. And speaking of his decisions and how that impacts others, tell me your thoughts on being tossed off a cliff by him. That seems a good place to start." I didn't have to worry about being delicate with Sulu. He was generally made of tougher stuff but he was also honest so I just had to be sure to watch for warning signs that a particular topic may warrant caution.

"Nothing, really." He shrugged carelessly. "It all happened so fast I didn't even realize what was going on until I was already falling and even then it was like, well, this is happening now. Better figure out a way to slow down." I could tell from his tone and body language that was exactly what happened. He really didn't have any particular thoughts or feelings about it other than dealing with his circumstance as best he could in the moment. "When I landed on the ledge I was thankful even though the beast thing was right above me." His face scrunched up a bit as he recalled the memory. "I was a little worried it was going to reach or climb down to get me, but it didn't seem to know how, so I felt pretty safe at that point. It slobbered on me which was kind of gross." He admitted shaking his head in disgust.

"You didn't know you were hurt at that point?" I asked somewhat amazed. I remembered once waking up in a hospital a long time ago with broken ribs and every breath felt like I was being stabbed with a rusty butter knife. For him not to feel anything just seemed incomprehensible.

"No. I was so pumped on adrenaline and just happy to be safe and alive. I didn't know how big that ledge was at first, so I was afraid to move around. It wasn't until Dr. McCoy asked me if I could move my limbs that it hit me." He absentmindedly picked up my jar of sand and began rolling it in his hands, the soft yellow grains slowly tumbling forward much like he did. "I was surprised to see him, honestly. I didn't think he'd climb that far without any sort of safety equipment. Not that we had any." His voice grew a little darker and I took it as a warning we were approaching troubled waters.

"But he did." I prompted softly. "So tell me what came next for you."

He truly looked sad and I felt for him. It was clear he felt needlessly complicit. "I'm sure you know. He just…" he gestured out into the open space between us, "he just fell. I rolled over, but he was out of my reach by then. Still, he was reaching out like he wanted me to help him...and…" he paused to take a deep breath although his voice trembled just a bit, "and I couldn't. I wanted to, but I couldn't." He hung his head in utter defeat.

I rolled McCoy's chair past the desk to close the distance between us and gently placed my hand on his knee. "Sulu, it wasn't your fault." I calmly assured him. "He knew the risk in doing what he did, but no one could've predicted at that moment there would be an earthquake. If I know how McCoy thinks, and I'd like to think I do have at least some insight as to how he ticks, I can tell you he didn't expect anything from you in that moment. Reaching is reflexive, it wasn't an invitation to you."

"I guess." He mumbled miserably. "But, can I tell you something and it not be weird?"

Normally when people trotted out that phrase it was either because they were afraid of being judged as abnormal or they were about to tell you they had feelings for you. While such things often happened in highly emotional circumstances, it was hard for it not to be weird in some way given the doctor-patient divide and doubly so when we lived and worked in such close proximity. "Of course." I bravely granted, ready for whatever may come.

"It made me sad to think he was going to die. I mean, he may not necessarily be well liked, but he's always helped me when I needed it in all kinds of ways and not always medically related stuff either. I never really told him, but I sorta looked up to him. He always seems to know exactly what to do and he just does it no matter what other people think about him. I think we all would have an easier time if we just listened to him a little more." He didn't explicitly say it, but I got the feeling he was referring to Jim perhaps in a general sense, but definitely in regards to the last mission. He gave a dry chuckle, but his smile faded as he looked to me. "But you know, while I was out there on that ledge waiting to be beamed up all I could think about was you."

He completely caught me off guard and I couldn't hide the surprise that was no doubt plain on my face. "Me?" I asked mystified. "Why me?" It felt like a punch to the gut to think despite all the pain he must have been in, he couldn't even focus on his own needs. Then again, I never told him I was thinking of him, or at least trying my best to channel his calm nature, while I was on Saren's ship either so perhaps it shouldn't have been such a shocking admission.

"Because I know that it took you two quite a while to finally allow yourselves to open up to another person and take another chance no matter what happened before. And you guys seemed so happy together, well, as happy as I've ever known him to be anyway. And all I could think about was how in the hell was I ever going to look you in the face knowing I couldn't save him for you?" He asked in a small voice that all but pleaded for forgiveness.

"Oh, Sulu." I exhaled, reaching out to hug him. My heart was heavy with his guilt and I had no idea he felt that way. It drove home the point that he thought of me not just as another member of the crew, but something like a friend whom he felt a personal responsibility for and it made me feel all the worse for not checking on him sooner. "Even if things didn't turn out as they had, I would never think to blame you."

He rested his chin on my shoulder and opted to take the comfort I offered him for a few more moments before he pulled away. "Thanks, but I prefer the way things are." He smiled with relief before quickly changing to a worried expression as he looked me over up close. "You feeling ok?" He asked concerned. "You seem pale and a little..." He gestured as though wiping sweat from his forehead rather than being rude and just saying it.

"Ah..." I thought quickly and decided to play it all off with a smile, "yeah. Maybe I have a touch of something. I feel fine, though. I think we're done here. I'll get you processed so you can report to the bridge in the morning." I replied hastily. If fine meant trembling hands, mild heart palpitations, and sweating from just a bit too much pure amphetamine….

He nodded at me suspiciously, but stood to go saying, "Maybe you should ask for a shot of something just in case."

I subconsciously slid my hand into my pocket and felt the slick stainless steel hypo and glass vials. What he didn't know was that I was already two steps ahead of him.


	18. Liar Liar

Chapter 18- Liar Liar

By the end of my shift I was still feeling pretty good at least in terms of energy. For the first time in a long time I felt something like normal again and I wasn't the only one who noticed.

Jim eyed me with a suspicious grin when he appeared for the nightly changing of the guard ceremony. "Well you seem…" he paused to cock his head and knit his eyebrows in search of the right word to sum up what he was seeing, "happy...or...whatever? Did I miss something?" He looked down quizzically at McCoy as though he suddenly expected him to be sitting up doing a crossword or painting a landscape.

"Just another day." I hummed lightly. "By the way, Sulu's cleared for duty tomorrow."

"Yeah, I saw the report. Like, 10 minutes after he left your office." He shook his head as though it were completely abnormal to bang out a full report in such a short time.

On any other day it might have been and I shrugged carelessly. "I type fast."

"I see." He still seemed unconvinced like it was otherworldly voodoo. "Then thank God I'm not paying you by the page."

"So how was your day?" I asked brightly. Suddenly I felt like I was standing in a furnace and I mused, "Is it hot in here?"

He looked around the room slowly as though he were searching for someone else I may have been talking to before biting his lip in confusion. "Uh…" he stammered uncomfortably, "ok, I guess and no, not really." He clearly felt blindsided by such an abrupt change in topic. After a moment of awkward silence he squinted and asked, "So, heading back to your quarters then?" To anyone else it would've been a clear sign to leave, but that's not how I read it.

"No, at least not yet. I thought I'd clean the office and maybe out here too. Then I'll drop in and see what Spock is up to." I answered quickly, one word nearly running into the next trying to keep up with the thoughts that raced in my head.

"Oh?" He inquired surprised. "I…." He was clearly struggling to see the tenuous connections between it all and finally just placed his hands on his hips and asked mystified, "Why?"

"I haven't practiced with him in awhile and maybe he wants to play." I explained. "I dunno. Maybe I'll just run or rearrange my clothes. I'll figure something out."

Although he nodded, he clearly had no understanding of what just happened. "Uh, ok. Good luck with that." He mumbled utterly confused.

"Oh!" I exclaimed looking at him wide eyed with excitement at the prospect of a concrete task, "Guess who's the last one to get cleared?" I playfully asked. He again turned to look down at his friend as though McCoy could somehow help him with me and I smiled. "Well, the last conscious person. He's technically last, but he's not exactly cooperating. So far he hasn't answered any of my questions."

He again glanced around the room with a mildly irritated expression. "I get it, Collins, but not now, ok?"

"It's never now, is it?" I asked somewhat sarcastically. "I'm starting to think you don't like me."

He nearly cut me in two with his hardened blue eyes as he warned, "I'm really starting not to. I told you I'd talk to you, but it's not going to be tonight." Perhaps sensing I may not have fully grasped his conviction, for added emphasis he narrowed his eyes and dropped his voice to a near growl. "Don't push your luck."

No matter how much energy or sense of invincibility the amphetamine gave me, it wasn't nearly enough to disregard his advice. There was just enough danger in his eyes to give me pause, and I thought it best to just give him a tight although still somewhat mocking nod before turning away to find something else to get into.

That something else was McCoy's room. Although he always kept his personal space neat and tidy, I felt there was still room for improvement and I spent the next few hours scrubbing it down from floor to ceiling until I collapsed on his bed in exhaustion when the drug finally wore off a little over 12 hours after I injected myself with it.

When I woke up, it wasn't of my own doing and that wasn't the worst of it. "Collins." Jim nearly shouted as he stood over me, finally reaching down to give me a few impatient shakes. Even through my blurry eyes I could tell he was pissed. Once I was sufficiently conscious for him, he wasted no time in stating his business. "Nice of you to join us today. Thank God Bones is in better shape to run things down there than you."

I sat up so fast my head swam, making him temporarily fade into the wall behind him in a hazy blur. "He's awake?" I was suddenly overcome with a bittersweet sadness. I was happy he was finally more or less out of danger, but I missed it. Despite my efforts to remain vigilant, I wasn't there for him to wake up to and I felt terrible for letting him down.

"Yeah," he replied in an almost disgusted tone while he placed his hands on his hips and glared down at me, "we've been paging you for hours now."

"Oh, shit." I muttered miserably.

"No shit." He quickly countered sarcastically. His expression softened somewhat and he looked to the floor as though he wanted to be doing anything else rather than being a messenger. "He's been asking where you are and I had to make up some bullshit about you seeing people on other decks. I didn't have a good answer for him because honestly, Collins, I don't know where your head's been lately." His exasperation was palpable and I couldn't blame him. "Aside from how much I hate you right now for making me lie to my best friend, do you know what time it is?" It was one of the things I struggled with since arriving in the ship, but something told me it was a rhetorical question, so he filled me in. "11:30. Is there someplace you're normally supposed to be at this time? Because I've been down in sickbay all day so I know you didn't even bother to notify anyone you weren't going to be on duty today."

"No, I didn't realize it was that late. I overslept, I'm sorry." I quickly apologized.

He folded his arms across his chest and I just knew he wasn't done. "And how's Scotty?" I looked up at him blankly until it came crashing down like a ton of bricks and I sighed heavily because I said I'd check on him but forgot about it. "Exactly." He nodded at my epiphany. "Look, Collins, I get it. Things have been a bit crazy around here and I don't even know what the hell to think about your behavior last night, but no matter what's going on you still have a job to do." He gave me one last parting glare and turned to go. "I suggest for your sake and that of Bones and this entire ship you get your shit together in a hurry. I want you up and in sickbay in 10. That's an order." He left the room, but forgot to take the tension with him because it still hung thick in the air.

I tossed the covers aside and swung my legs over the edge of the bed, rubbing my face vigorously to wake up. The crash phase of the drug knocked me out into a deep and dreamless sleep which normally would have been welcome, but I knew I had to be more careful. Since I hadn't used in so long my body was sensitive to its effects and what used to be a relatively small dose had a bigger effect than intended.

Jim was a fairly forgiving guy. He tolerated quite a bit in terms of allowing his officers to speak freely even if it seemed impertinent, he often looked the other way to allow his staff indulgences snuck aboard or even homemade in Scotty's case if it maintained morale on these long stretches, and he didn't even seem to bat an eye at nearly being killed by a miscalculation as he beamed down to the planet. I knew I screwed up by not showing up for my shift and neglecting Scotty. It wasn't a good showing on my part, but those were things he'd let slide so long as I didn't make a habit of it. That wasn't why he was angry- he was most upset by how my actions affected McCoy. Jim may not have cared about what anyone else said or did to him personally, but he warned me in no uncertain terms against hurting his best friend and I knew I was treading on thin ice. I quickly washed up and put on my uniform to meet Jim's demands, but I knew I'd be a minute or two late because I had to make a stop first.

The door to my room slid shut with a soft hiss and I went straight to the bed. I reached under the frame where the hypo was perched on top of a rail. I turned the cold metal cylinder in my hands, watching the liquid in the vial curl and swish like a tiny ocean. I promised myself the day before I would only do it once, but I needed to wake up in a hurry and it was going to no doubt be a long day seeing McCoy and trying to catch up on all the work Jim was angry about. It seemed like a sensible need, a good enough reason for just a little boost I told myself. There was a part of me that warned I was starting down a very dangerous path, still I rolled up my sleeve and got to business. It felt justified, but I always knew that part would become easier and easier to the point any reason would seem good enough. It wasn't going to be like that this time I told myself. I could handle it as long as I could distinguish between need and want. '_The lies we tell ourselves' _the quiet voice deep in my mind sighed as I hid my dirty little secret back under the darkness of the bed and reported as ordered.


	19. Stay

Chapter 19- Stay

I held my breath as I rounded the corner to sickbay in anticipation. I wanted McCoy to wake for so long but I didn't know what to say to him now that he was. What does one say to a person who was nearly crushed to death and then spent nearly a week in a drug induced oblivion? Ask if they had nice dreams? Welcome them back as if it was a voluntary sabbatical? As it turned out, I didn't need to say much at all.

Jim was standing by the foot of his bed with his arms crossed. His eyes briefly met mine and seethed for just a split second to let me know he was still upset with me, but he quickly resumed his friendly demeanor and forced a smile. "There she is!" He proclaimed as I approached. "See, Bones? I told you she'd turn up." He may have been angry with me, but he wasn't about to air our dirty laundry for McCoy to obsess over, for which I was grateful. "Well, much as I love the nasty sterile smell down here, I probably should at least check in and see what's going on up on the bridge." He said wandering toward the door to allow us some time together. "It's Sulu's first day back so I gotta make sure he remembers how to parallel park this thing if needed."

McCoy never said a word. He just watched him leave and then he turned his eyes to me. He was slightly propped up with pillows and the bandages that were there the day before had been removed, so I supposed his retinal treatments were complete. He was normally easy to read, but his face was almost completely devoid of expression and his eyes regarded me neutrally. My breath caught in my throat as it occurred to me that he might not even have recognized me. He wasn't afraid of me, but there was no sign of familiarity either and it worried me. He just waited patiently like I was a new nurse there to give him medicine or take his vitals. His early scans did suggest possible brain trauma so I swallowed hard and switched to clinical mode. "Hello." I greeted in a friendly tone, smiling. "I'm glad you're awake. Do you know where you are?"

He blinked a few times and then slowly his face clouded over with mild irritation as he scowled. "Are you serious?" He asked gruffly.

"Maybe." I granted, not sure if it was a legitimate question or if he was trying to cover for the fact that he didn't know. "What's your name?"

He glanced at me suspiciously and slowly inquired, "Haven't we met before?"

"Have we?" I challenged. "Do you think you know me?"

He raised an eyebrow slightly and deadpanned, "I thought I did, but I'm starting to wonder."

"You mean you knew me before, but now you don't?" I tried to clarify. Memory was a tricky thing and I needed to determine if he had amnesia. It was possible he was recalling me as a ghostly concept from the past, but couldn't correctly place me in the present.

He quickly grimaced as he slowly reached up with one hand to gently massage his temples, but broke out into an almost desperate smile despite the pain. "Either I'm still loopy from the sedatives, or this is just the strangest conversation I've ever had with anyone other than Spock."

It was at that point I was reasonably sure he was sufficiently oriented to person and place and his previous responses were nothing more than classic McCoy snark, but still I needed confirmation that his brains were not indeed scrambled. I sat on the side of his bed and gave him a patient smile. "I know this probably isn't what you had in mind, but I need you to answer some questions as best you can. Can you do that?"

"Do I have to?" He asked warily with a squint.

"I'd like you to." I countered hopefully. I couldn't make him do anything, the best I could hope for was acquiescence and thankfully he granted it by rolling his eyes and gesturing for me to just get on with it. "What's your name?" I repeated.

"Leonard McCoy." He hummed in a bored tone. "Born in Marietta, Georgia on Earth. I'm a surgeon and CMO on the Enterprise. I have a sister Leti, which you met, a beautiful daughter Joanna, and a harpy for an ex-wife. I drink a little too much, my boss can be a jerk sometimes, and I apparently have shit for luck, but otherwise I like rainbows and long walks on the beach." He grumbled sourly.

"And a penchant for sarcasm at inappropriate times." I disapproved. I always tried to cooperate with him even when he needed to inflict very unpleasant things on me like eye drops, so why was he making my job so hard?

In a conciliatory gesture, he reached for my hand and his features softened along with his tone as he gave it a light squeeze. "I'm ok, darlin'." He reassured me in his soft southern drawl followed by a small playful smirk.

Indeed sarcasm was a higher form of wit that required intelligence and timing to pull off and it was consistent with his personality- both things brain damaged people had a hard time with. I could do nothing but smile at his deviousness and stare into his olive eyes, open and inviting as they were. He wasn't trying to hide anything from me and I felt a sudden rush of guilt, forcing me to look away. "I'm sorry I wasn't here." I apologized running may hand gently over the bruised skin on the back of his. "I really wanted to be." I knew it was but one of many things to be sorry for.

"I know how it is, you have to work- it's the nature of the job. And anyway, Jim was here so it wasn't like I was alone." He huffed and rolled his eyes dramatically. "Not that it would've bothered me. Christ, he snores like a hibernating bear. You don't know how many times I came close to smotherin' him to death with a pillow at the Academy."

His sense of humor lifted my mood as it usually did and I found the courage to resume at least some normal eye contact to admit, "Your scans suggested possible brain trauma so I was a little worried there for a minute, but I'm glad at least some of your memory seems to be intact. You know, as much as I would love to cut you some slack, I do have a job to do." I warned.

"Yeah, I know." He acknowledged somberly. "You gonna test me or something?" He'd read my reports before, so he knew exactly what was coming down the pike for him. He was firmly in my wheelhouse now and he had a whole battery of memory and cognitive flexibility fun and games in store, although for his job psychiatric adjustment, attention, and motor skills were going to be the most important things for me to measure. It just wouldn't do to have an easily distracted and highly anxious CMO with shaky hands wielding surgical tools.

I couldn't help but laugh at his word choice. "Oh, I'm sure I'll do that in more ways than one." I gingerly patted his hand so as not to accidentally hurt him, "But not today. Today you get to rest and relax. How are you feeling?" I asked concerned.

He seemed vaguely uncomfortable with his circumstances as doctors who find themselves to be patients often are, but apparently felt he could be honest with me. Despite a semi-casual shrug he sighed deeply and looked down to the blankets with something approaching resignation. "Sore as hell. Everything hurts- I can't even sit up by myself, but I guess I shouldn't complain. By all rights I should be dead right now."

"So much for having shit for luck." I observed. "The universe tried to destroy you, but you survived to give it the middle finger."

"Yeah, I guess I did." He said a bit too darkly for my comfort. He scowled slightly as though he were concentrating very hard before glancing at me with a confused expression. "What happened out there, anyway?"

I paused and debated about what to do. He was a little too lucid for deflection to another topic to work and I didn't think he'd take no for an answer. That left me with playing another round of 20 questions with him to figure out what pieces of the puzzle went missing for him or possibly getting him to table the topic for later as options. I really wasn't sure which he'd go for, so I just picked one. I rubbed my free hand very lightly along his arm and shoulder while I continued to hold his hand with the other. Physical contact usually worked well on him and I was hoping it would still in spite of his soreness. "I know you have questions, but we don't have to do this now." I informed him in a soft tone. "We can talk about it after you've had some more time to heal. Missing memories may come back on their own but if they don't, I'll help you look for them." I assured.

Surprisingly he didn't argue. Instead he seemed to settle a bit more into his pillows and slowly closed his eyes. "Ok." He easily agreed in a relaxed almost sleepy voice. "I know you're workin', but can you stay for a bit?" He wanted to stay awake with me, but the fact he wasn't even willing to put up a fight about what happened to him was a testament to just how exhausted he was. He just didn't have it in him to care beyond what he needed most at that moment and I could relate with his struggle.

My heart almost broke at the thought he even felt he had to ask, but in our lines of work nothing was ever assumed. While friends and family were important, patients always came first which meant we usually had very little time for ourselves. Lucky for him, he occupied multiple categories so he had priority. "Of course." I promised.

"Good," he nearly sighed in contentment, "because this right here's the best thing about waking up so far." I leaned over to softly place a kiss between his eyebrows and although he kept his eyes closed and smiled lightly, he rhetorically admonished "Aren't you on the clock?"

I shrugged carelessly. "No one's around to see it and it's technically my break time." Truthfully, I'd only been on duty for a little over a half hour, but he didn't need to know my day pretty much just started. Because it seemed to relax him or at the very least he didn't object, I continued to slowly and gently brush my hand across his limb being mindful of the tender bruises beneath the thin fabric of the white shirt he'd been dressed in, much like the one I woke up in when I first came. It wasn't long before he drifted off into his own natural sleep accompanied by the soft symphony of the beeping machines around us. His rest seemed so deep and peaceful I was almost envious.


	20. Forgiveness

Chapter 20- Forgiveness

I must have stood outside Jim's door for at least 15 minutes before I found the courage to inch close enough to it to activate the chime. Even so, there was more than just a small part of me that hoped he wasn't in. Gadfly he was, odds were he was elsewhere perhaps having dinner or maybe he had his feet kicked up in Scotty's office sharing some exotic drink, or there were always any number of administrative things he had to see to and sign off on that might occupy his time. I knew he wasn't in sickbay because I just left, being sure to make up for the hours I lost this morning which meant my shift ended just after dinner. I waited for a good 30 seconds before thanking my stars and turning to make a hasty exit, but was stopped short halfway to the lift by him calling after me, "Collins! Get back here." It seemed I inherited McCoy's terrible luck and I bit my lip, but returned as ordered and reluctantly entered his quarters after he gestured for me to follow him in.

I stood awkwardly by the table where we once all gathered for an impromptu dinner while the Klingons invaded our space. I remembered McCoy trying to convince Spock that no matter how perfect he thought himself to be, he too had a prideful vice and was no better than anyone else because at least he owned up to his wrathful streak. It was strange how warm the space felt then partially set on fire by the first time McCoy and I really ever got close enough to slow dance. He played it cool, but I distinctly recalled the way the arteries in his neck pulsated with his anxiety and I wondered if he had non-collegial feelings for me by then. I wasn't sure when he became aware of the possibility that we could be more than coworkers because I never asked him about it. But that was then, and now the room felt claustrophobic and frigid. It didn't help that Jim's icy blue eyes had been staring at me with a strange mix of contempt and disappointment since I arrived. I hadn't known him to hold a grudge for so long, but then again I hadn't managed to cross his red line until now. "You wanted to see me?" I asked timidly.

"Want? No." He scoffed somehow magically producing a glass of Bailey's he seemed to conjure from thin air to plop down on the table for me before ambling back to the replicator to get a beer for himself. "But I do have an appointment I have to keep, so…" he sighed resigned to his fate. He returned to the table this time holding three beers in one hand and an entire bottle of my favorite cordial in the other. He set them down and sank heavily into a chair opposite where I was standing.

I raised my eyebrows at what he considered dinner and cautiously inquired, "Is it going to be that bad?"

He gestured to the chair near me to sit and took a drink. "Nah, it's just been a long day and I don't feel like getting up 10 times to get refills." People often said he jumped into things without a plan, but this was proof that he was always thinking ahead.

I sat and lifted my glass in a small salute to him. "Thank you for remembering."

His facial expression relaxed a bit and his tone was at least neutral which was a positive sign. "Your favorite drink or the appointment?"

"Why not both." I declared. It wasn't unusual that he picked his quarters for the meeting because it was where he probably felt most comfortable and in control, but I knew I had to address the elephant in the room before any real progress could be made. "Look, Jim, I feel I need to apologize…"

He immediately waved me off as he took another long drink. "Shit happens, Collins. People screw up and you're not the first." He wasn't disappointed about it, to him was just a fact and not necessarily a flaw.

"I know, but…"

"Just don't do it again." He interrupted. "Case closed. Next." He held my gaze but slowly a playful grin graced his face to let me know it was really over in his mind and he meant it.

It felt good to be forgiven and back in his good graces so I again tipped my glass to him in gratitude. "Alright then, on to other business. About what happened on the away mission, any part that was difficult for you?" I thought it best to allow him to pick a starting point. He wasn't like Sulu or Spock who just seemed to rationalize everything as it came and deal with it. There was no doubt Jim was an intelligent man, I knew that to be a fact because I measured it myself, but despite having a perfectly good brain he liked to live a good deal of his life from his heart and gut.

"Well, it was pretty damn difficult to fly when I didn't have wings." He laughed good naturedly as he finished off his first bottle and reached for the second. Perhaps he should have brought more at the pace he was going. "I was just hoping I wouldn't break my neck on the way down, but it all worked out so whatever."

"Yeah, you had a pretty rough landing." I granted. "Anything else?"

He looked to the ceiling as though he were trying to recall the chain of events before shrugging. "I wasn't sure we were all going to make it off that cliff." His voice grew a little darker because he knew it wasn't the going over that was the issue, it was what came after. Still, I sat quietly and let him take his time to get there on his own. "I really didn't have a choice, though. If we took that monster on there was no way somebody wasn't gonna get bit bad or tossed further off the edge and I knew we couldn't run through those damn vines. The only chance we had was down. I knew there were some ledges right below us so that was it."

"You did what you thought was best and given your options, it probably was the lesser of evils even if Sulu did get banged up." I observed. "But you did too. We were all watching your feeds and it was dangerous for you to be out there without climate control. You could've suffered serious problems."

"Yeah, it was pretty hot." He admitted in a quiet voice. His eyes were far away and I could only guess he was replaying the worst of it in his head. Finally, after a few moments of silence and swigs of liquid courage he finally spat it out. "I thought he was dead."

"I know. We all did." I softly assured him.

He shook his head and gave a desperate smile. "He's a crazy son of a bitch. Do you know how many times he's jumped in and dragged me out of bar fights or worse? He's supposed to be the rational one. He's always lecturing me about this or that and about being safe and whatnot and he suddenly he thinks he's Spiderman?!"

I poured more for myself so as not to make him feel like he was drinking alone and responded, "I was surprised too, but maybe we shouldn't have been. You certainly know him better than I do, but from what I can tell he's not the type to spoil for a fight and will in fact try everything he can to avoid it, but if someone needs his help like Sulu did, he'll be the first one there come hell or high water."

"Cheers to that." He agreed clinking his bottle against my glass. "Ya know, there's been times when my own stupidity almost does me in and that's ok, but sometimes I drag him into it if I mean to or not and that kinda sucks. But even then he never blames me for it." He seemed despondent as he peeled the label off his bottle, little flecks of paper falling to the table like snow. "I wonder if he does now."

"I doubt it." I stated with a fairly high degree of certainty.

"He should. I mean, not just 'cause I was the one that put him on that ledge, but he tried to tell me before we even went it was maybe too dangerous but I didn't listen to him." He sighed heavily with regret. "And ya' know what? He was right. He was right, I didn't listen, and now it's him that ended up in a bed downstairs unable to even scratch his own nose if he has an itch."

"Do you plan on talking to him about it?" I asked quietly.

"And say what?" He howled desperately. "Gee, Bones. I'm sorry it's my fault you got crushed to powder and you won't be able to walk for six months, but hey, still wanna be buddies?"

I kept my voice neutral and calm to counteract his mercurial mood. "He's your friend, Jim. You don't need to ask him to be. Now we both know that he does nothing more or less than exactly what he wants to, so you need to ask yourself what you're more likely to change: his behavior or yours." His eyes cleared up slightly and I could see the wheels turning in his head. "If you're unhappy with how this all turned out, maybe you should consider modifying how you approach these kinds of things because like it or not, he's your ride or die the whole way."

He shook his head slowly as he smiled and took another sip. "Then he's too dumb for his own good."

"Funny," I commented lightly refilling my glass, "he says the same of you."

"Oh, I'll bet he says a lot more than that." He laughed. He sniffed and his mood settled into something a little more like acceptance. "So are you going to stay down there tonight?"

"In sickbay?" I checked. "Well, this is normally your time so no."

"Nah, you can go. I'm sure he doesn't want me sleeping with him tonight, but you can tell him I offered." He chuckled finishing his second bottle.

"Are you sure? It would be just like the good old days at the Academy. He did say you snore, though." I giggled. I had to slow down on the booze because it was starting to make me buzzy and a little loose lipped.

"Yeah, well he's a blanket hog." He retorted. I looked at him strangely wondering exactly how he knew that. He only grinned back, eyes sparkling enigmatically while he reached for his last beer.


	21. I've Come to Bargain

Chapter 21- I've Come to Bargain

McCoy wasn't exactly happy about it, but I did stay in sickbay. He grumbled about his department not being a hotel and griped about how no one could sleep for all the racket. He said he couldn't understand why I'd rather stay there than in my perfectly good bed because if he had half a chance he knew which option he'd take and so it went, but it wasn't hard to figure out what was really going on. He was a man who didn't like to admit his limitations, much less to his subordinates, so he naturally found it hard to abide needing help to readjust his position in bed because his torn muscles and strained ligaments couldn't yet bear his own weight. It was an affront to his autonomy to be propped up so he could eat, but at least he was able to feed himself. I imagined he'd simply rather starve than allow someone to spoon feed him even if Jim did the airplane gag for him.

That's what made his request ethically murky at best. He planned to discharge himself very much against medical advice, but thought it might somehow make it all better if he did so in my care. "C'mon," he pleaded with desperation in his eyes, "I can't stay down here a minute longer. Please, Morgan." He begged with a sense of dire urgency to underline how intolerable it all really was for him.

I did a double take at the fact he used my first name which meant he was trying to appeal to me on a personal level rather than professional and I gave him a mildly disapproving expression at the tactic. "That's not fair." I warned him.

He nodded, but clearly wasn't ready to scuttle his plans. He never gave up easily on anything he wanted and there was nothing he wanted more than his freedom. "You're right, but neither's this." He reasoned gesturing to his own department. "I have to work with these people everyday and…" he looked to me to silently complete his thought which I read easily as 'This is embarrassing for me. Please don't make me do this.'

I sighed and debated what I should do. I could understand his position of wanting to hide the worst of the recovery process from his staff because in some ways it might be viewed as weakness, so it made sense he'd want to do it all by himself in private and return to take control of his department when he was able like it was some magic trick. But no matter how determined he was, the fact remained he was physically incapable of seeing to himself so extensive was the soft tissue damage he sustained and it would probably take several more days before he could even think about walking on his own. But how many times had he shown me mercy by allowing me to remain in my quarters perhaps against his better medical judgement because it was what I wanted? And it wasn't like I hadn't helped him save face before by letting him sleep in my room the night he tried to drown his sorrow and pain in bourbon at the thought he'd never be a father to his beloved child again. It felt all wrong, but his mental suffering seemed to be greater than his physical discomfort which in the end was enough for me. "Ok, but here's the rules." I stated firmly placing my hands on my hips.

"Everything with you has conditions, doesn't it?" He observed with a good natured squint. "What do I have to ignore or who am I not allowed to talk to this time?"

I raised my eyebrows at him like I was scolding a child. "You, McCoy, probably need rules more than others not to actually set and hold boundaries, but to keep you busy with trying to figure out a way to circumvent them- sort of like what you're doing now. Besides, the concessions you made ultimately allowed you to secure what you wanted most, right? Sometimes you have to give to get."

"I guess." He begrudgingly admitted. "I got Jo back even if her mother put her in danger around the mouth breather of a boytoy she was ridin'." He searched my face for any glimmer of a hint he was onto something with his guess, but I held his gaze blankly. "Oh, c'mon!" He cried in frustration when it became clear I wasn't going to fall for it.

"Rules, McCoy." I patiently reminded. "You know I can't tell you anything about it." Even though he never asked up until that point, I always knew it secretly gnawed at him.

He graciously admitted defeat with a small smile. "Boy, nobody should ever worry tellin' you about anything 'cause you're like a black hole. Lots of stuff goes in, but it never comes out." His words struck me as odd because he was more right than he could possibly have known. "So what part of my soul do I need to sell this time?"

"It's not your soul I want." I informed him.

"Well, Starfleet already owns my ass and my bones aren't for sale, darlin'." He stated glancing around the sickbay to be sure no one was within earshot before turning to me with a flirtatious grin. "And it might be a bit before we can even consider a horse trade on other, more prime real estate shall we say, so I'm afraid it's all I got left." His deep drawl was full of swagger that indicated he was clearly enjoying himself.

"You're hopeless." I sighed in defeat. There was just no way I was ever going to get him to take his circumstances seriously even if I did find his off color humor charming.

He raised an eyebrow and shrugged. "Yeah, well that's what my momma always said too, so I guess she was right." He was trying to be facetious, but I knew he was only half joking. From what he and Leti told me, he had always been seen as something of a disappointment to his parents because he didn't want to learn French or dance the waltz perfectly enough for them as a young man and his behavior only became more appalling to them and their social standing after he left for college.

It was telling that despite him saying they only lived down the road from the childhood home Leti and her family now occupied and her telling me she hadn't seen him in years because he never really had a chance to come home often, they never once dropped in or even sent him a message. Despite all he'd done in Starfleet and the lives he saved, they made no effort to acknowledge his existence even though seemingly random people stopped to thank him at every turn. I thought about her note to me stating she worried about him, but felt better knowing I was there to look after him and I wondered what she'd think about what had become of her baby brother. The more I thought about it, the better I felt about my decision. He deserved better. "Be that as it may," I redirected taking his hand in mine to hopefully ease the bad news I was about to break to him, "I'll agree to this, but it will take courage on your part."

He looked away with something like sadness and I knew it wasn't going to be an easy path for him, but his response surprised me. "I know, but I don't have to be perfectly fine with it as long as I'm just ok, right?"

"Right." I gently smiled at watching him mentally grow in front of my eyes. Patient progress typically took place at such a slow pace it usually wasn't readily observable, so it was always beautiful to me when I was able to glimpse it in real time. "I don't have the medical knowledge you do, so I'm going to have to rely on your unflinching honesty. If you need help, even with things that might be hard to admit like getting to the bathroom, I need you to tell me. Lucky for you I'm not easily grossed or weirded out so I'm perfectly down for helping you with whatever you need, I just need you to tell me what that is. If you can promise me you can do that, I'll call Jim down here so he can help me get you to your room." I proposed.

"Ok." He swallowed and his voice was dry as though the very thought of it terrified him, but he knew his odds were better with me and really what other option did he have? "But, maybe we can wait until tonight when, you know." He trailed off and looked to me to again use our own private backchannel for the things he couldn't manage to put words to out loud. He didn't need to- he wanted to wait until there were fewer people around to witness us drag him through the halls like a corpse. I nodded to let him know I understood and his eyes filled with gratitude. 'Thank you' he quietly telegraphed with a profound sense of relief for his suffering and I in turn smiled to let him know he was welcome.


	22. Jail Break

Chapter 22- Jail Break

And so it was at nearly two in the morning when all was quiet Jim and I snuck into sickbay like two burglars to steal the CMO. In all honesty Spock probably would've been better because he was surprisingly strong, but I knew he'd never agree to such a thing and McCoy would never abide it even if he did. I'd watched Jim manhandle him at least once before the night we all went out to the bar by the Academy and again after he laid him out in his own sickbay before any of us realized he was delirious with fever, and I was sure those probably weren't the only times either. In any case, Jim was more than happy to quietly pretend he just drank too much again.

"You know this is a bad idea right, Bones?" Jim grunted as he shifted most of McCoy's weight onto his shoulders once we wrestled him into a standing position while I propped up his other side. "I feel as the captain of this ship I should advise against this. It's a pretty big mistake to check yourself out. In fact, I'm pretty sure you can't even do that."

"Well I am, and this isn't the biggest mistake I've ever made. Sneaking you onto the ship was pretty bad, but sitting next to you on the damn shuttle was the worst idea I've ever had." He snarked defiantly.

"It was the only seat left." He reminded him through clenched teeth as we started for the sickbay doors. McCoy was trying to walk, but his pace was leaden so it was very slow going. "And the toilet didn't count. What the hell did you think the rest of us were going to use the whole time?"

"Didn't care, really." He hissed half from pain and half irritation. "And anyway, you're here too because you've never met a bad idea you didn't immediately fall in love with like a moth to a bug zapper so do me a favor and spare me your advice."

I choked back my laughter prompting Jim to shoot me a wide innocent grin. "He called it." I defended. "It took you all of what, five seconds before you started plotting this operation? It seemed to come suspiciously easy to you I might add."

We finally made it to the lifts only because Jim and I worked together to redistribute his weight enough to more or less carry him for the sake of expediency. At the rate we were going, we'd just be reaching his quarters by day shift. For his part, McCoy didn't protest and went on as though nothing had changed. "Yeah, well that's 'cause he has plenty of experience breaking into clinics after hours."

"Not true." He defended after ordering us to deck 3. "I didn't have to break in. Most times I had your access card which made things a lot easier." His tone was lightly taunting as though it just made him the smartest person in the lift.

"For you, maybe." He grumbled while we dragged him out and down the quiet hall to his quarters. Even though we were trying to be careful with him, there was no gentle way of transporting dead weight. It must have been excruciating, but he tried to hide it by clenching his teeth.

There was a brief moment of confusion because someone had to put in a code to open the door from the outside. McCoy's arms were wrapped around our shoulders in a way we didn't want to disentangle so as to keep moving and Jim didn't want to use his because if Spock pulled up an audit he wanted to say it wasn't him, so naturally that left me. "Face it, Collins," Jim smiled with only a slight hint of embarrassment, "no one's gonna ask why you went to Bones' room at two in the morning because everyone knows, well…" He grinned wider which earned an appreciative snort from McCoy.

I sighed heavily and punched in my code. "You two are a bad influence on each other." I observed while we hoisted him one last time to get him to his bed. Jim supported his full weight while I quickly pulled back the covers from the last time I slept in it. "This is bad enough, but a fish rots from the head."

He gave me a quizzical look while he struggled to lower his friend in without losing his balance and falling on him like I once did, earning myself a liquor laced kiss. "What's that supposed to mean?" He huffed in exhaustion once McCoy was more or less on his back and oriented correctly.

"I think she means the whole thing, Jim." He sighed gesturing between the two of us, seemingly grateful for the familiar relief of his bed for his aching body.

It took him a minute to get the reference, but when he did there was not even a shred of guilt in him as he shrugged nonchalantly. "Yeah, well whatever. It worked out didn't it?" He looked to his friend and inquired, "You good now, Bones?"

"Yeah," he replied quietly, "thanks, Jim." He probably knew he was asking quite a bit of us to go against our better judgements, but he wanted his best friend who had been with him for numerous suspect capers know that he was grateful for bending the rules for him.

The sentiment wasn't lost on Jim and he looked to the floor, eyes heavy with sadness which was reflected in his voice. "It's the least I could do, Bones." He no doubt still felt tremendously guilty as he told me he did, but he turned to me and forced a smile. "Alright Collins, he's all yours. This is the sickness and health and better or worse part of the thing you agreed to, so get to it. If you need to cut your hours in sickbay that's cool. We'll figure something out." He gave me a good luck wave and headed for the door so he could get a few hours of sleep before his shift.

McCoy and I stared after him for some time until he finally squinted and asked, "He doesn't know the difference between a domestic partnership and marriage, does he?"

"I don't think he cares." I yawned, turning to him to pull up the covers across his chest. "Um, in terms of logistics it doesn't make sense for me to go to my room if you need something…" I stammered. Even though we were in a relationship, I didn't just want to invite myself into his space as a matter of course. It somehow seemed rude.

He seemed a little surprised. "After all this time and you're still creeped out by sleepin' in my bed? Darlin', I got news for you…" he hinted with a sly smile to insinuate we'd been up to more than that before.

"It's not that," I gently chided, wondering if I should tell him I slept in his bed alone and uninvited not so long ago, "I'm just afraid I'll roll over on you or kick you in my sleep or something and I don't want to hurt you." I wasn't sure why I felt ashamed in admitting that to him because I really was fearful of that very thing.

He reached up for me to lightly pull me into the bed next to him by my wrist. His eyes were soft and his voice low as he quietly assured me, "Oh you do those things, but I'm not made of glass so don't worry about breakin' me. Better than you have tried and failed including the universe itself." I slipped under the covers while after many false starts and a few hitched breaths he managed to roll himself onto his side. "Besides," he hissed finally falling into the position he wanted and wrapping an arm around my midsection with a slight tug to let me know he wanted me to move a little closer to him, "I've spent enough time sleepin' alone and with Jim, so it will be a nice change of pace. I'll take one or two kicks or cuddles over his incessant snoring any day."

"Alright then." I sighed sleepily ordering the lights out. I was comforted by being so close to him again and as I lay there in the dark, I realized how much I'd missed it. "Goodnight, Leonard." I bid, turning my head to give him a soft kiss on the lips which he gladly accepted and carefully settled in so as not to jostle him or the bed too much.

"Goodnight, Morgan." He breathed into my hair. Just as I started to drift off to sleep I heard him mutter, "Why does it smell like sickbay in here?"

My eyes shot open and I felt a surge of adrenaline race through my body. In a near amphetamine fueled manic fit I scrubbed the place down the day before and the antiseptic smell still hung heavy in the air. The bitter taste of a half-truth burned in my throat as I forced myself to sound nonchalant. "I cleaned up a bit for when you were discharged." My heart was pounding in my chest so hard I prayed he couldn't feel it too.

There was what seemed like an eternity of silence before he said anything and I was fearful he was somehow able to figure it all out. "Hmmm. Ok…..thanks?" He offered obviously confused, but I could tell by his tone he was willing to let it go at that. Soon after he was fast asleep while I spent the remainder of the night laying awake, fearful of what he might suspect and angry at myself for lying to him.


	23. Not Guilty

Chapter 23- Not Guilty

The first few days were rough. I just knew McCoy would have a difficult time with keeping his end of the bargain and he stubbornly insisted on trying to do everything on his own no matter what the medical knowledge in his brain or pain signals from his body told him. He may have been prideful, but he wasn't stupid and the first time he nearly cracked his head open on the table next to the bed in a fall was enough to scare some sense into him. Thereafter, he was a little more reasonable in asking me to help him, but it didn't mean he liked it one bit.

Although he could do some things on his own with ingenious modifications like shaving and general grooming, there were lots of trips to the bathroom, bathing, and dressing to be negotiated which I realized was humiliating for him on some level. I approached it all with a pragmatic matter-of-fact task completion mindset which he seemed to tolerate as best he could. It helped to remind him about how embarrassing it was for me to wake up after receiving every inoculation I'd missed over the last millenium only for him to tell me he'd ordered a gynecological exam while I was out and then immediately launched into a conversation about birth control options. It was a lot to process in a short time even if he swore he didn't do the exam himself.

"I was just doing my job." He defended as I helped him work his arm through a clean shirt as he sat on the edge of the bed after the wrestling match that was his shower. It was just easier to climb in with him to make sure he didn't fall and ensure everything was squeaky clean, but it also meant I spent the day smelling like his favorite products. I loved the slightly spicy masculine scent on him, I just wasn't so sure it did me any favors. "Since you obviously went to the trouble of gettin' it in the first place, I thought it was probably pretty damn important to you. Not many women I know pick up stuff like that on a whim like buyin' a trinket in a gift shop."

"I know you were, and the moral of the story is you handled what's normally at best an awkward conversation with indifference because for you it really wasn't anything more than a box to be checked." I replied, slipping the remainder of the wadded fabric over his head and pulling it down to cover his torso once it was all in place. Although his bruises were fading somewhat, they covered the majority of his body and some were deep and still very sensitive. "No matter my feelings about having it done or what option I wanted if any made no difference to you in terms of how you viewed me as a patient. And so it is here." I summed picking up his dirty clothes from the floor to recycle them. "I know you have your own feelings about it, but just know this is only temporary and for me it changes nothing."

"Apples and oranges." He grumbled as he usually did when I drew parallels between his job and mine even though they were very often similar. He fell back on the bed letting gravity do most of the work for him, but struggled somewhat to get his legs to cooperate.

I smiled as I grabbed his ankles and lifted his legs to swing them in line with the rest of his body. "Looks like you're going for pear shaped." I chuckled. He narrowed his eyes and gave me a mock scowl, but there was no bite to his bark. "I have to get back to work." I informed him fetching a glass of water from the replicator and placing it on the table next to him in case he wanted it. "You have your PADD in the drawer, but don't spend all your time reviewing charts. Technically you aren't on duty. Message me if you need me." I instructed.

He pursed his lips and playfully growled, "Yeah, yeah. Don't nag me woman."

I fluffed a pillow to place behind his back so he could sit up and made sure his hypo loaded with pain medication was within easy reach should he need it. The sight of it always sent a small shock of guilt through me because opportunist I was, I helpfully offered to collect the prescription he made for himself from the sickbay closet for the busy nurse on duty. As promised, I showed her the vials I chose so she could verify it was the correct drug but what she didn't know was while I was there I picked up a few more for myself. I had already used half of what I initially had and I was going through it fast. I knew sooner or later someone would notice the missing stock, but I had a plan. I quickly looked away and smiled before giving him an affectionate kiss on the temple. "Be good." I advised. "I'll be home a bit late tonight."

"Oh yeah," he droned completely disinterested. "the grand conclave meeting. Tell Jim I hope he fires me." Any other sane person would've been at least a little apprehensive at the prospect of the ship's superior officers meeting to determine their fate for misconduct, but then again it was probably pretty hard for him to find a single damn to give when the captain was a co-conspirator.

Jim told me I could cut my hours in sickbay if needed in order to take care of McCoy for what I supposed was something like family medical leave given our arrangement, because I didn't think this circumstance could rightfully place him as my direct patient. McCoy may have had issues and I did have to assess him yet, but my evaluation would take no more than a day at most and that was assuming he needed to stop for a nap in the middle of it. Any follow up sessions if needed would be measured in minutes of less than 60 so al in all it didn't add up. Then again, Jim and apparently now McCoy were proving to be adept at bending and otherwise finding loopholes and backdoors in rules without otherwise breaking them which was an impressive dark art unto itself. McCoy didn't need nor would he tolerate 24/7 babysitting, so rather than take Jim up on his offer I decided to view it as a sidegig in addition to my normal job. It was a lot of work, but I had help that I made regular use of to provide the day's energy.

The day was a little busier than I expected. I was called down to the security levels to check on a guard who seemed to be experiencing symptoms of mild depression caused by a mix of boredom, homesickness, and general sense of ennui. I determined he wasn't an immediate danger to himself and arranged for recurring appointments to meet until we could get it sorted. I was then paged back to sickbay to talk with one of the science researchers and her engineer partner after they received the news the fertility treatments they opted for resulted in multiple embryos- too many in fact to be considered safe yet they wanted to try to carry them to term. While they understood the medical implications, it was difficult for them after trying so long to create life to even come to terms with the idea of ending them, let alone actively choosing which would never make it into the world if it became too physically dangerous. I spent quite a bit of time with them trying my best to be neutral and supportive of their reticence despite the medical inevitability of it all. While I was entering my notes, McCoy messaged me so I dropped what I was doing to go get him a bathroom break and make a quick meal from the replicator for him to pick at before rushing off to another call about a person having a panic attack.

At the end of the day I sat at my desk in the quiet office to decompress from it all. I didn't even have time to stop and eat lunch, but such was the nature of the business. It was at times mentally exhausting and the weight of the couple's fertility conundrum weighed heavily on me. There was so much crying and raw anguish from them about the unfairness of it all and I couldn't argue. Life, love, and loss were hopelessly intertwined for them despite the cold and clean dileniations science had to offer. I was distracted by a small beep from the PADD on my desk reminding me of the meeting in 15 minutes which would largely be a formality, so much so I wondered why we even bothered if not for Spock's insistence no doubt. I sighed and held my head in my hands. I needed a little something to get through it- just a small jolt of energy so I popped by my room before heading to the bridge.

I could already feel the fog in my head clearing as the lift carried me to the top of the world. "Hey!" Uhura reflexively smiled. We nearly ran into each other as I was rushing to the meeting and she was leaving. "Haven't seen you around in awhile. Can I make an appointment for lunch? Seems that's the only way we're ever going to see you again." She gently teased, her long hair swishing over her shoulder as Sulu and Pavel joined her in agreement by nodding.

"I know, I'm sorry guys. I've been busy. Tomorrow?" I offered meekly. I felt bad because it seemed like I was forever telling them I was busy- too busy for them and it wasn't right.

Sulu, being Sulu, smiled congenially as though he was hurt but nonetheless understood which was somehow worse. "Ok. 12:00 tomorrow 10 forward."

As they all stuffed into the lift to head home for the night, I heard Pavel confidently assure them "She made an appointment. She vill be there. She alvays keeps appointments." I appreciated his sentiment, but I was already late for one.

I timidly entered the conference room and slithered into the nearest open seat next to Scotty, although as I suspected it did not go unnoticed by Spock who briefly gave me a disapproving look as though he were disappointed I didn't carry around an atomic clock in my head to keep time like he apparently did. "Sorry." I humbly whispered.

Scotty looked utterly bored as he fidgeted with a thingamabob he brought with him, by the looks of it an instrument perhaps used to measure some thing or another as he swiveled in his chair. "Ah no mind, lass. If the good captain can't even be arsed with showin' up on time to his own meetin', you've got nothin' to worry about." Spock tilted his head slightly and I wondered if he was trying to work out Scotty's statement in his head sort of the way he had to noodle out what a balloon dog was.

"Sorry 'bout that." Jim sighed readjusting his clothing as he hastily closed the door. "Had to see a guy about a horse." Spock's eyes narrowed as the angle at which his head sharpened even more. It was clear he was perplexed. "Anyway, let's get this over. So you all know what happened with Bones on the away team. Last night he checked himself out of sickbay AMA."

"He what?" Scotty squinted. "What's that?"

"Against medical advice." I clarified.

He gave a conspiratorial chuckle and observed, "Daft bastard." He then turned to me and asked, "Did ya examine his head? Sounds like there's some loose screws rattlin' around up there."

"Not yet, but it's on the books." I answered, noting the intensity in Spock's eyes which prompted me to extrapolate least he think I was slacking off in my duties or just simply giving McCoy a pass. "At this point he's still sleeping a lot which means his brain is actively recovering. To test him now would only give me a baseline of his post-injury functioning which can be useful, but some of the tests have a practice effect meaning people just naturally get better with multiple tries over a short period of time so those are best reserved until we think he's as good as he's going to get recovery wise."

Jim sat back in his chair with his hands behind his head, laughing. "Oh, Bones is gonna love that process." Almost as an afterthought he proudly announced to all those present "My IQ was 132. Did you tell him that?"

"He knows, Jim." I said flatly. "But his memory was near perfect so as I told you, IQ isn't everything." I informed him pointing to Spock.

"Only nearly?" Scotty huffed rolling his eyes. "You mean there's a chance anyone could get away with somethin' as minor as nickin' an extra pen from supplies?"

"My memory or the captain's cognitive capacity is not at issue here," Spock cooly reminded everyone although there was a slight edge to his voice to indicate he was irritated with the one upmanship, "but conduct, specifically that of Dr. McCoy, is. Unwise as it may be, he is of course entitled to decline further medical intervention if he wishes. But there are two questions that remain unanswered. First, Dr. Collins, do you believe his decision to do so was made rationally given the potential of head trauma as his medical records suggested?"

I took a deep breath and switched to clinical mode to answer his question. "I did assess his mental status hours after he woke from his induced coma, and found him to be fully oriented with good insight. I also spoke with him just prior to his self-discharge and he was again fully lucid and aware of the consequences of his decision." I glanced to Jim and added. "I was present when the captain also warned him against it. Dr. McCoy acknowledged his statement, but went ahead with discharge. On all three occasions he was fully rational, or at least more than we need for him to be to force treatment without his consent."

"Then we all must accept that he acted within his personal rights to discontinue treatment." Spock declared with an aura of respect for his personal autonomy. "However, his professional considerations remain. As the CMO he is the final authority on all medical matters including patient discharge. It presents a paradox to be the one to approve one's own discharge and does it not set a poor precedent for the ship in terms of compliance with orders, in this case medical?" He posited thoughtfully.

"Ah, let him sign his own papers." Scotty howled tossing his hands up in frustration. "Otherwise, who's it, then? Ah can put machines together and tear 'em apart, but Ah don't know a bloody thing about a body so I'm keen to take his word on it. You?" He asked pointing at Spock with his instrument. "Ya might be the science officer and all, but how much do ya really know about medicine? Enough to tell him what he should do? Her?" He went on, jerking his thumb in my direction. "She can tell him he's daft or off his rocker or whatever, but she's already said he was with it enough to think straight."

"I'm not a doctor of any kind, so…" Jim gave Spock a half shrug to indicate he was fresh out of luck. "As I see it, the only person in this room with any standing to overrule Bones on this kind of stuff is Collins, but she covered that base. Face it, Spock, he's gonna get away with it. But to your second point of morale, he did discharge himself in her care so it's not like he's really getting away with anything in the end. Same result, different venue."

"I do not intend to be disrespectful, Dr. Collins, but to my knowledge your training is in psychology, not nursing. Were his arrangements appropriate given the severity of his injuries?" He really wasn't trying to throw me under the bus, he was expressing concern for McCoy's wellbeing in the only way he knew how which I found touching.

"No offense taken." I smiled warmly. "Dr. McCoy did suffer residual soft tissue damage that at least for now makes it difficult for him to move around on his own, but he's healing well and believe it or not compliant with his limitations. All of the serious injuries like broken bones or internal bleeds have all been repaired. Now it's just a waiting game for the muscles and whatnot to catch up so really my only job tends to be helping him with practical tasks. After that, he'll be back on duty assuming all my tests check out."

"Tell him I'm sorry Ah haven't come around." Scotty urged turning to me in his chair. "Ah just thought he'd want to be alone ya know. Maybe not feelin' up to it."

"That was probably true, but I'm sure he'd be glad for the company if you wanted to drop in. I'm sure he's close to being bored out of his mind. Just don't give him alcohol- he's still on pain meds and you should never mix the two. I'm sure he knows that, but don't tempt him." I chuckled.

"Indeed." Spock agreed with a small smile. "I believe to this point he has sufficiently tempted fate."


	24. Coming and Going

Chapter 24- Coming and Going

It took almost a week after his discharge for him to be able to reliably move around on his own. It was almost another two months of physical therapy and nights in the rec room to get his body back into alignment and conditioned after spending so long in bed. He surprisingly cooperated to his fullest potential with me to test his abilities and it was no surprise that his fine motor skills were far above that of the normal person and I didn't see any serious issues with any other facet of his functioning. Although he still wasn't quite ready to talk about his experience in great detail, he was generally psychiatrically stable enough to carry out his duties. Through it all, the only thing he complained about was a general sense of muscle fatigue or occasional aches that I swore he milked just so I would continue the near nightly massages I started the day he awoke from his coma. It seemed like my tool of physical contact worked all too well on him to the point it was almost like a drug. But we all have our vices, don't we?

"Are you ready?" I asked glancing at him out of the corner of my eye while we rode the lift.

"Why wouldn't I be?" He countered gruffly. "It's my own damn department. It's not like I'm an intern on my first day." Despite his bravado, I noticed the way he nervously drummed his fingers on his thigh. It was no wonder Pavel found it fairly easy to beat him at poker, card counting ability notwithstanding. His tells were terrible.

Still I pretended not to notice and casually observed, "It's been nearly three months, McCoy. You know, you were sort of legendary before but given all that's happened, you're probably almost demigod status now."

He looked ahead with an intense expression and mumbled, "Good. If they have any sense, nobody had the bright idea of putting together some ridiculous welcome back party. I hate those."

I bit my lip as we approached sickbay because I honestly didn't know what we'd find. There were no streamers, but the room was dotted with latex gloves blown up into balloons and the office door was plastered with several printed sections of his body scans showing the broken bones of his skeleton loosely aligned like macaroni on a string. Next to the paper showing his intact skull, someone drew an arrow and wrote in marker "Too hard to break." The entire staff was there to immediately erupt into a cacophony of claps, yells, and whistles at the return of their king.

He came to a sudden stop in the middle of the room and scowled like his foot got caught in a bear trap. "Oh stop it." He demanded with a glare. "You all act like you've never seen a dead man down here before. Now get back to work and get this mess cleaned up or someone's gonna find themselves accoutin' for every baindaid in the department." He gave them one last dismissive wave, and although the crowd dispersed to carry out his orders it didn't seem to completely dampen their enthusiasm to have him back.

He snorted at the door decorations and plopped down in his chair with an irritated huff. I sat at my desk amazed at how things just fell into place. It was like he never left. I gently reminded him, "They really do respect you, McCoy. As hard as it was for you, they worked so hard to save your life and they're just happy for you. It's sort of a celebration for themselves too. Can you at least give them that?"

"I get it." He agreed easily with no hint of anger in his voice. "But they know I hate stuff like that. If they wanted to have a party, they could've done it at any time without me and they should've. They did all the work. The only thing I did was not die." His mood grew somber and he began rifling through his drawers as a distraction. "I planned to personally thank them, but I want to do it one at a time in private so I'll need the office for a bit."

"I think that's a wonderful idea, McCoy." I commended. "I'll clear out for the day. I'm not busy so I can start inventory in the med closet." I suggested.

He paused to look up at me in surprise. "Why would you volunteer for that? Do you know how many vials are in there?" He seemed mildly horrified like it was haunted or something.

"No, but I can find out." I replied with a casual smile. "Besides, I find counting things relaxing."

He made a disgusted face and mumbled, "Isn't that a psychiatric condition? OCD or something?"

"I never said I didn't have tendencies, McCoy." I sighed grabbing my PADD from my desk.

He opened the top drawer of his desk and my heart stopped because the lines in his face deepened in suspicious confusion. He moved a few objects around and furrowed his eyebrows while I quickly tried to think of a lie just in case he asked me if I knew where his missing hypo was. Thankfully, he just slid it shut and returned his attention to me. "I guess, if you want. You might wanna get a coffee first."

"I stopped drinking those a few months ago." I informed him, trying to surreptitiously breathe deeply to slow the adrenaline fueled heart palpitations.

"What?" He cried incredulously. "You can't live without coffee. It's like a second appendage for you."

"Yeah, well my doctor advised me to slow down because they'd give me diabetes so I listened to him." I did quit, but it wasn't because he told me to. I found mixing it with amphetamine left me way too jittery. So rather than quit the drug, I quit coffee and somehow that made perfect sense to me.

He raised his eyebrow slightly and huffed. "I think that's a first- you listenin' to me. But I worry 'cause it seems to be a basic food group for you. Now, I've been lookin' over medical charts while I was off and I noticed you've lost weight and…"

I just knew where he was going with it and I had to stop him before he asked questions I didn't want to answer of order tests I couldn't explain the results of. "So what is it, doc? Drink coffee or no, because I'm getting mixed messages here." I asked mildly flummoxed. "Tell you what, while you think it over I'm going to start on inventory. Good luck with your meetings today and I'll see you tonight after work." I picked up my PADD and all but ran out of the office, leaving him looking after me wondering what the hell just happened.

The closet was quiet save for the soft hum of the refrigerator unit that stored medicine which had to be kept cold. I immediately started at the far end so as to get the yellow capped stimulant section completed. There was no way I was going to finish the entire room in one day because McCoy was right, there must have been over 1,000 vials of various things in the racks. But if I at least got that section done I knew no one would go over it again for another three months during the next quarterly inventory. I counted vials of various shades of stimulant and wondered about how they settled on yellow as a designation. I know it certainly made me feel happy, warm, and energetic like the sun. Perhaps it was no coincidence then that sedatives were blue for sleepy time. When I came to my preferred ray of sunshine right before lunch, I slipped a few more vials in my pocket but adjusted the total on the PADD to cover the 10 or so I'd already stolen. It was no big deal, I told myself. There were probably a hundred or more and that particular drug was unlikely to be needed in an emergency the way opiates or blood coagulants were.

I finished the stimulants and had moved down the line to the pink capped antipsychotics by lunch. I left my PADD in the room so I could pick up where I left off, but first stopped by my quarters to hide my prize. The rail was overflowing with vials both empty and full, but I hadn't yet figured out a good way of disposing of them without a trace. The replicator acted as a disposal in some cases, but it would detect the vials as medical waste and automatically reject them unless a special code was used. I was sure McCoy had one, but I needed to figure out a way of finding out what it was so I could use it. It was no different than Jim using his access card to gain entry to the Academy clinic I rationalized. In the meantime I hid the empties in a small box in stuffed into the ceiling of my closet.

"Well, well." Uhura smiled in mock surprise when I set my tray down. Getting food was largely just for show since I was never really hungry anymore. Amphetamine was a hell of a weightloss plan. "Hey, stranger."

Sulu looked quizzically at her while he gestured to me. "Do you know this person?"

Pavel, not wanting to be left out of a good joke, peered suspiciously at me. "She looks a little familiar I think, like I've seen her somevhere before but…"

"Of course you have," I teased with a wicked grin. "You dream about me at night, don't you?" The table erupted in laughter as his cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment. "Sorry, Pavel," I sniggered, "it was too easy."

"No, it vas a good one." He conceded good naturedly.

"Where's Scotty?" I asked looking at the empty chair next to Uhura. It wasn't like him to miss lunch. I'd never met a man who loved sandwiches as much as he did- peanut butter, stromboli, grilled cheese, it didn't matter. If it could be placed between two slices of bread for maximum efficiency and portability it was on his plate.

"Upstairs on the bridge." Uhura answered placing her glass of iced tea neatly down on the table. "Since you've been hiding all this time, you probably haven't heard we're scheduled to head back into the neutral zone for minor repairs and supplies."

"Another leave?" I asked excitedly, although I didn't know why it was titillating for me since the last leave found me with something like malaria.

"Not exactly." Sulu shrugged pushing back his plate of food signaling he was finished with it. "I mean, we'll be there for a few days but it's a Romulan outpost so…."

He didn't need to say any more and I felt my heart sink deep into my gut. "Why?" I asked quietly. I knew it was grossly unfair to fear and loathe an entire race of people based on the actions of one, but I just couldn't help it so visceral was my reaction.

Pavel immediately caught on and in a supportive tone looked to me with sympathy in his eyes. "I know maybe you have bad memories of Romulans from vhat you know of them. But not all are that vay. Some also are good and they help us."

"Where we're going is an outpost, that's true." Uhura agreed. "But it's inhabited by defectors who think more like us. They choose to align with the Federation and in exchange for assistance they get protection."

"Do we have an option to stay onboard or will this be another Klingon everyone abandon ship scenario?" I inquired. I knew what option I was going to choose and briefly considered hiding in a closet if there was a mandatory evacuation.

"Haven't heard yet." Sulu replied. "We just got word this morning, which is why the captain is meeting with Scotty. I guess he's trying to get a handle on what we need. I'm sure it's only a matter of time before you guys on deck 5 get called up."

"McCoy will love that. First day back and he has to slapdash an inventory together. It will be a late night for sure." I noted. Good thing I already got started.

"How is he?" Uhura asked intently. "He was gone for quite awhile. I'll bet his staff thought it was a vacation."

"He's fit enough to serve." I said simply. "He's not entirely back to neat, but good enough."

"I'm surprised he made it back that fast to be honest." Sulu commented pushing his plate further away as though it offended him. "They must've given him growth hormone or something. Five broken bones was more than enough for me so I just can't imagine." He trailed off shaking his head in disbelief.

"To our CMO." Uhura proclaimed raising her glass of tea. "He may be the terror of deck 5 but what he lacks in social skills he makes up for by being a man not just of words, but of action."

"That was beautiful, Uhura." I complimented with all sincerity. "Can I tell him you said that?"

"Absolutely not." She shook her head emphatically sending her long hair rippling in waves. "I have a physical coming up and you know how he is."

Pavel smiled at her misfortune, but his expression grew perplexed as he twirled his fork. "I don't understand. Most people vould be happy to know others think vell of them, but it makes him angry."

"He doesn't like recognition." I hinted. "He's happy to stay behind the scenes because he hates being the center of attention."

"Probably why he and the captain work so well together," Sulu chuckled. "I don't think he ever gets tired of attention."

Pavel stretched languidly and sighed. "Ve should go back. I need to vork out our route to the outpost before the end of today."

Sulu stood and picked up his plate to properly dispose of it. "Yeah, me too. I'm sure I'll get assigned to some other department to help out if we're not taking off right away."

Uhura started to get up, but I intervened. "Um, could I talk with you for a minute?" I requested.

Her eyes went a bit wide in surprise, but she looked to her crewmates. "Could one of you notify the captain that Dr. Collins wanted to see me? Tell him I'll be up as soon as we're done." She asked. She was going to be late to her post, but since it was I who asked it was considered official business so she was off the hook.

"Thank you, it won't take long." I promised as she reclaimed her seat. "First, I've been meaning to ask you something for quite awhile, but I wasn't sure how." I admitted.

Her lips curled into a smile as she curiously asked, "Ok, what?"

"The day you and I were left on the bridge, I'm not clear about exactly what happened." I started slowly, trying to think of a way to get the information I wanted without sounding accusatory.

She shook her head in mild confusion. "What do you mean? You saw what happened. We all did."

"Not that, after." I clarified, trying to push the awful memory of watching Mccoy fall on the huge screen out of my head. "When it was just the two of us. Spock said he left you as acting captain."

"Yeah." She agreed, not quite following.

"But you asked me if I wanted a report, which made me think I was." I filled her in. I didn't want this to turn into a power struggle so I quickly added. "But given the circumstances, Uhura, you were by far the most qualified for many reasons."

Her face softened with a smile but her voice was confident and unapologetic. "I know. Look Collins, I've seen that vacant look on you before. And I understand, I do, but I knew you were in no shape to run yourself let alone a ship. You're only human, I don't care how many stripes you have on your sleeve. But I also know you work best when you have a purpose, especially if the focus is on someone other than you, so I gave you one." She shrugged and quietly added, "Sort of."

"So you let me believe I was acting captain when really you were the whole time." I recapped before giving her an appreciative smile. "You know what? I'm not even mad about it and in fact, well done. If you ever decide to jump ship from communications, you'd make a good psychologist." I commended.

"Oh no thank you." She flatly refused. "I get that you for whatever reason dig Dr. McCoy, but there's no way I'd work down on deck 5 for him. He's like Jim without any of the fun."

"You wouldn't work for him, you'd work for me." I corrected. "And for the record I've always been as territorial of my students and supervisees as he is of his, so I'd have no qualms about going toe to toe with him the first time he opened his mouth."

"I appreciate the offer, but I think I'll stay where I am." She graciously smiled.

I nodded in acceptance and sighed. It was a shame because she did seem to have a natural talent and I really could use her linguistic skills for cases when it might be best to test people in their native language. "Fair enough. Then again I suppose what constitutes excitement on our level is very different from yours."

Her face darkened with disgust, temporarily blotting out her beautiful features. "Yeah, I don't think I could deal with all the suffering like you guys do, but I'm glad there are people like you and Dr. McCoy who can."

"Speaking of, I think it's time I picked up the package you've been holding for me." I slyly suggested.

"Is it?" She asked semi-excited. "Great. Come by tonight and I'll have it, but you have to let me know how it goes."


	25. Small Favors

Chapter 25- Small Favors

I returned to sickbay to find it in shambles as though we were under attack. Every drawer and cabinet hung open and not more than two were side by side where there wasn't some poor unfortunate soul nearby with a PADD counting something or other. "If you like countin', welcome to your heaven." McCoy's rough voice came from behind. "Everyone else's hell, but to each their own I guess."

"Yeah, I talked to the gang at lunch and I just found out." I turned to see him scowling in irritation, not at his staff who worked furiously to tabulate the supplies, but likely at Jim who seemed to be a big fan of last minute nigh impossible feats. "So we're going to be here late tonight." I sighed resigned to my fate.

"Nah, you don't have to. You've been workin' a lot of hours lately. After your shift, why don't you just call it a day?" He murmured quietly so no one else could hear him offer me a golden ticket out of purgatory.

"Because I…" I started

He folded his arms across his chest and raised his eyebrows slightly as he peered down at me, his olive eyes sharp and determined. "That wasn't a suggestion, darlin'."

I stood there with my mouth agape at his power move. "Are you..." I stammered in disbelief, "Did you just give me an order?"

"Sure did." He confirmed steadily holding my gaze. "As of 17:00 you are to vacate my department." He didn't even flinch.

"I feel like I'm being unfairly treated." I warned him playfully. "I'm taking this to Spock."

He smirked as though he'd relish the challenge of Spock coming down there to tell him how to run his department. "Right now he's coordinatin' resupplies for all departments, so go right ahead. I'm sure your complaint will register real high up on his list of things to see to, but let me know how that works out for you." He encouraged gesturing for me to go back to the med closet, "So for now, get to work. I'm not payin' you to stand around."

"You aren't paying me at all." I reminded him before returning to my chore. It was a good thing I got my business done earlier in the day because the room was now occupied by three others all counting vials including Sulu. "Hey!" I greeted surprised. "Are you lost?" I asked gesturing to his yellow shirt which made him stand out among the sea of blue that surrounded him.

He sighed like he was trying to lay low and I blew his cover. "I knew it was a possibility I'd get assigned to another department, but this is crazy." He looked helplessly around the room at the seeming billions of glass tubes, each making a slight tinkling sound when the trays were pulled out of the racks. "Pavel's a lucky dog. He got to stay up on the bridge to do his actual job while I was sent down here."

"It's not that bad." I shrugged.

He looked at me blankly but his voice was filled with humor. "I think we have very different definitions of that. For me, not bad is only coming across an asteroid or two I have to fly around. Not bad for you guys is only losing one limb or only having to spend half your life going blind counting tiny glass bottles." The other two nurses in the room chuckled at his assessment but kept working without breaking their concentration.

I had to admit, by the time the shift ended I was grateful for McCoy's mercy because my eyes felt like they were on fire with fatigue. Sulu was also allowed to leave, but only because he technically didn't work in the department although if he really wanted to, McCoy could've ordered him to stay out of spite. Instead, he called him to the office to collect his PADD and thank him for his help, which I thought was classy on his part. Watching the two I remembered what Sulu told me about how he looked up to McCoy and I wondered if he ever talked to him to tell him the same.

After he left, McCoy turned to me and yawned while he stretched. "Ok, Collins. Get out."

"What about you?" I asked rhetorically. "It's your first day back. Maybe you shouldn't push yourself so hard so fast. They can count bandages without you- you don't need to stay here all night and babysit."

He really did look tired, but he stubbornly held his ground. "17:02. You're late."

"You didn't eat lunch today, at least get some dinner." I gently urged. "Or better yet, I'll bring you something. Give me about an hour."

He looked at me skeptically. "An hour? Are you building a replicator from scratch?"

"Close." I smiled mysteriously as I left.

An hour may have been a little short considering I had to stop by my room for a wake-me-up, Uhura's quarters to pick up my package, and the officer's kitchen on deck 2. It also took a bit longer to get everything ready so by the time it was all said and done, it was more like an hour and a half, but I was reasonably sure McCoy wouldn't mind. I toted the tray full of food down to the office, but it wasn't exactly the presentation I planned because I found McCoy slumped in his chair sleeping. It always struck me as odd because he was like a cat: he could fall asleep anywhere and in almost any position. He seemed so exhausted I didn't want to wake him up, but I didn't have to because the smell of a home cooked dinner from his region of the world did.

He blinked slowly and sniffed a few times. "Either I smell cornbread or I'm still dreamin'. But if I'm dreamin', lord please don't let me wake up." He mumbled sleepily.

"You aren't dreaming." I assured him placing the source of his desire on his desk in front of him. "It's all real, and it's for you."

He seemed dumbfounded as he looked over the bowl of soup beans, cornbread, and a smaller bowl of grits. "You said real. How..?" He asked perplexed. "Real as in non-replicated?" He just couldn't seem to get his head around it like it was all a mirage.

"100% honest to god grown from the Earth real." I stated proudly. When he continued to stare into the bowl like it was a crystal ball ready to reveal its secrets, I prompted "And it's probably going to taste best if you eat it while it's hot."

He seemed skeptical, but crumbled the still steaming bread into bits to mix with his beans and took a bite. His eyes lit up with a familiar recognition and he turned to me with a genuine smile that I had only seen a few times before. "I love you so much right now, darlin'. You've made me a very happy man." He declared without swallowing all of it first. "But how did…?" He asked at a loss for words which I took as a compliment because he was never without something to say.

I was momentarily struck by his open and easy declaration of love. It was the first time either of us had said it, it was really more assumed I supposed but it did lend a certain sense of gravity to the situation I wasn't expecting. "Remember several months ago when Jim decided we should all do a Thanksgiving dinner and we had to go down to the gigantic depot to pick up supplies for our dishes? Well, I picked up a few things that travel well and I saved them for a special occasion." I explained. It really was a simple dinner and I was lucky the dry goods of beans and bread mix would more or less keep in perpetuity.

"But I was with you." He objected with a mouth full of food. "I didn't see you get any of this."

I gave him a slyly disapproving look. "Come on, McCoy. You aren't the only one with spies in other departments and you aren't the only one who can be good at surprises." I chided reaching to my jar of sand to shake it for him to see. It truly was a clandestine network of goods and services that ran like a well oiled machine. Just like he never told Pavel it was actually him that arranged for the show of support when his brother died, I didn't tell him it was Scotty who bought the items I needed from a list or Uhura that hid them for me, but after this I definitely owed them one.

He eyed the jar with a slight hint of embarrassed modesty and grumbled, "Apples and oranges" while he continued to shovel his food into his mouth as though he were afraid it was going to vanish into the ether at any moment. For all his bluster, McCoy was quietly observant which made him sneakily good at procuring thoughtful gifts at the perfect time all under the radar. It was incredibly hard to pin him down to return the favor, but it seemed I was finally able to score one with a little help from some friends.


	26. Lost and Found

Chapter 26- Lost and Found

I was never really good at directions and I never pretended to be, but it didn't stop me from nodding politely at Pavel as he tried his level best to explain to me where we were in space and where we were going. He tried everything he knew by showing me his star charts, pointing out this planet or that constellation as though they were road signs along an otherwise unmarked highway that only he could read, and a few failed attempts at equivalencies in scale but in the end I just had to remind him should anything happen I was the absolute last person on the ship to take his place. It was like trying to explain the concept of miles to an earthworm that had been flipped on its back and struggling to right itself again. If we were in fact flying upside down I wouldn't have known it thanks to the array of gravity stabilizers and other technology the ship was armed with.

McCoy was still stuffed full of happiness days later thanks to leftovers and a lingering buzz that someone took the time to give him a small gift he could appreciate and I was glad to do it. I well recalled the warm burst of delight that filled me everytime he made some small gesture that meant the world to me when I most needed it. I tried desperately to hold on to that feeling even though my stomach churned like a tar pit. Then again, it almost always did these days mostly due to my diet which almost entirely consisted of injections and a constant buffet of anxiety and lies to keep him or anyone from finding out. "Collins." I heard him call from what I thought was across the room. "Hey. You in there?" He asked waving his hand in front of my face.

I found the gesture irritating and felt a sudden violent urge to bite it, but swallowed it all down. I had to act normal even if it wasn't how I felt. Aggressive thoughts were now a daily occurrence but I knew I couldn't act on them so I had to be satisfied with the macabre theatre that played in my head. If there was a silver lining to it all, it was that the graphic imagery in my nightmares didn't bother me anymore, at least they hadn't during the brief naps I had during crashes, because what I envisioned in my head during my waking hours had habituated me to the concept of maiming and violence to the point of numbness. The awful truth was I was high to some degree about 80% of the time, but as long as I was careful to stay on top of my work and lay low I found no one really noticed. In my book I was winning by outsmarting everyone at my secret game of hide and seek, but I just knew McCoy was ultimately going to pose a problem. "What?" I spit out agitated.

He raised his eyebrows slightly at the rebuke, but valiantly chose to overlook it and cautiously stated, "I was just sayin' Spock will be down here in a bit with room assignments for once we get down to the outpost. We still haven't told him if it's gonna be one room or two." The slight lilt in his voice made it clear what his preference was. I wasn't sure if I was crafty enough to hide my gear when he was in such close proximity, but I was certain I couldn't just stop either. The withdrawl symptoms would be plain as day to him.

"Do we even have to go in the first place?" I pouted. "Why can't we just stay on the ship?"

He perched himself on the corner of his desk facing me and sighed while he scratched his head. "Morgan, I know how this must make you feel bein' made to go down there forcin' yourself to smile while swimmin' in a sea of Romulans. As a rule they haven't exactly done me any favors either, but we have to deal with them from time to time out here, so maybe you and me can just get this over with together." He suggested reaching out to put a hand on my shoulder. "Isn't misery supposed to love company?"

I thought it was sweet he chose to pin my uncharacteristic irritability and shifting mood on my past experience with Saren and his ilk, and for my part I was willing to let him. It certainly did make for a convenient cover. "Not always. If we have to go, tell Spock make it two." I grumbled. "It's not a shore leave so I can take work with me."

The expression of confused shock on his face made me look away. He clearly wasn't expecting me to say no. I was sure in his mind it was all a foregone conclusion that I would agree, and I should have but logistically couldn't. "What work? You get your notes in immediately." He protested gesturing to the computer.

"There's always journals to catch up on." I persisted.

He shook his head as if it was the worst excuse he'd ever heard and it probably was. "You stayin' up reading won't bother me, I…" It was painful to watch his eyes grow distant and his expression morph into sadness when he finally realized that no matter what he said the lame excuses would keep coming. "Ok," he stammered, the hurt he felt plain on his face at being rejected, "if that's what you want. I'll tell him." He turned to leave the office, no doubt uncomfortable to stay there with me and I didn't blame him. I didn't want to be in there with myself either but I had nowhere else to go. There was no escape for me.

I sighed heavily and put my head down on my desk. I hated what I'd become, but I hated what it did to him more. I had become Joslyn and although I detested the very thought of it, I now had a different understanding of her. One can never say what is truly in a person's heart. Perhaps she did love him in some way at some time, but maybe her life spun out of control too and she was powerless to stop it. All the while he probably held on for dear life willing to overlook most things in the hope it would somehow work out until she had to cut the line to save either him or herself I didn't know. But like a play with very bad actors, the scene was being repeated all over again- me making very dangerous choices I deluded myself into thinking I could handle and him once more being used for what was wanted or needed.

The small voice in my head, the one I never seemed to listen to that tried to get me to do the right thing, cried out it wasn't too late. I could just tell McCoy I screwed up because he knew about my past addiction and he was a doctor, he'd understand at least on a professional level. But it was his personal feelings on the matter that gave me pause. I wasn't a rocket scientist but crafty as I was, I knew sooner or later the empire of lies and deceit I so carefully built would all come crashing down and he'd be crushed all over again by his disappointment in me. I just couldn't do that to him so the only option I had was to try to be more careful. Maybe I could quit slowly on my own and no one would know I told myself. 'Sure,' the little voice scoffed, 'and how many addicts do you know who successfully pulled that off?'

Not surprisingly, I didn't see McCoy after our shift. He was probably in his room 'drinkin' and thinkin'' as he liked to put it which was code for 'I'm upset- go away' so I obliged him by not even darkening his doorstep in the first place. And what would I say anyway? I felt trapped between pushing him away before I took him down with me and clinging to him like my life depended on it because it really did. I loved him and I did care about how it would affect him, but in the bluntest of terms he was my access card to the drugs. I had near immunity from suspicion due to my association with him which enabled me to obtain it and cover my tracks and as far as I could tell, he had no idea about any of it. He was simply too useful to me in a practical sense to let go.

The next morning some of us gathered in the shuttle bay while engineering ran the transporters as a means of expediting the disembarkation process. We were told it was very cold and snowing on the surface, so we all bundled up in thick parkas in the colors of our divisions with the Starfleet logo on the upper arm and chest to identify ourselves as well as scarves, gloves, and boots to cope with the conditions. All in all we looked like a bunch of explorers ready to go spelunking the wilds of the Arctic. I knew exactly what line I'd find McCoy in and at least part of me wanted to take the transporters just to avoid him, but like an insidious invasion his unease with them had somehow slowly crept in over time. I'd personally been witness to one of Saren's hostages simply go missing during the process as well as the sudden drop of the away team, so I somehow thought it best to take my chances in a craft that in all likelihood had a statistically higher probability of falling out of the sky than risking a one in a million transporter glitch. It was the old car vs. airplane conundrum. Was it better to ride in a car with a higher crash rate or a plane that was relatively safe but ensured 100% fatality if it went down?

Since the outpost had replicators thanks to Federation technology, there was very little to pack aside from personal items such as the PADD I stuffed into a small bag as well as my other hobby kit. "Mornin'." McCoy greeted in a low and somewhat hesitant voice from behind me. His coat was unzipped and hung gaping open while his thick gloves had been hastily shoved into the pockets almost as an afterthought. He looked tired and apprehensive like he'd been up all night and wasn't sure what he was going to get with me, but felt it rude not to test the waters.

No matter my internal struggles, the sight of him usually made me happy so I returned his greeting. I reached out to lightly touch his arm just below the elbow and grew concerned the more I looked at him. "Are you alright? You seem…" I wasn't sure what to tell him so I let our internal communicators connect to convey he appeared unwell in some way be it physical weariness or mental fatigue from worry or something worse.

He looked down toward his heavy snow boots as his eyes clouded over and he gave a slight scowl to indicate I wasn't wrong. "Yeah, I just…" I immediately got it. _I couldn't sleep so I sat up drinking because I don't know what's going on right now, but I don't know what else to do._

I gave him a sympathetic smile to let him know he could put his worries to bed and he seemed to relax a little. "Are you going to be ok?" I asked jerking my head toward the shuttle. If he was full of whiskey and low on sleep it could make for a rough ride down.

He eyed it like it was the enemy and placed his hands on his hips, arching his eyebrow. "Gonna have to be. There's no way I'm volunteerin' to become molecular confetti if I can help it."

"Well, Jim's not here so I guess that means I get to sit next to you." I chuckled moving forward in the line for my turn to enter the craft.

Even though he came late to the party, he cut in line and glared at the ensign behind him like he dared him or anyone else to say anything about it before following me and plopping down in his seat. While he struggled to disentangle his harness straps from his scarf, he grumbled a warning. "I'll try not to throw up on you, but this might be another one of those for better or worse things he mentioned." I eyed him warily as I lengthened the straps of my east restraints to account for the bulk of my jacket and snapped the buckle tight, wondering how repellant it would be to such things.

As the shuttle rumbled to take off, he laid his head back and closed his eyes tight like he was praying as hard as he ever had in his life. Although he told me he hated flying in general, I got the distinct sense his reaction was less to do with that particular phobia and more about concentrating very hard to keep all the inside things in. The lengthy and puffy coats that covered our thighs formed a wall to obscure his hand which rested between our seats from those sitting across from us. I surreptitiously slid my hand into his and gave it a light squeeze which he returned with a little more sustained force like a boa constrictor choking prey, but I didn't mind. I leaned over so he could hear me over the roar of the engines. "Breathe, McCoy." I reminded him. "Calm. It's going to be ok." He nodded nervously and his squint lessened some, but he kept his eyes closed and continued to hold my hand all the way to the surface.


	27. Movin' On Up

Chapter 27- Movin' On Up

I didn't really have any direct memory of being frozen by Saren and his crew right before being scuttled and found by Jim, but standing in line on the surface of the outpost waiting for clearance to enter the thick city walls while the frigid wind howled and swirled around us and blew torrents of jagged crystalline snow in my face like a barrage of razor blades, it made me think it had to be close to what it was like. We huddled together like packs of penguins, dancing around to generate body heat while we waited for the guards at the gates to check our credentials. I wasn't sure how any sort of determination was being made bundled up as we were. I for one had my hood pulled up and my face wrapped in my scarf from the eyes down so there wasn't much to see.

"Bozhe ty moy," Pavel mumbled as he hopped from one foot to the other while rubbing his face with his hands, "moye litso bolit." I couldn't tell if he was speaking Russian or if his words were obscured from talking into his gloves, but whatever the case he was clearly miserable. Nearby Sulu and Uhura raced one another in sprints to keep warm. Uhura was winning until she slipped and fell, but she was not one to go down without a fight. She reached out to grab his pant leg as he ran past making him do a faceplant into the deep snow. Far from being angry, he rolled over onto his back laughing while he brushed the snow out of his face.

"What the hell's the holdup?" McCoy wondered aloud snaking his head around the people in front of him in order to determine why we were slowly being frozen to death. It was poor hospitality in his estimation and he clearly didn't mind saying so. "Hey! Can you hurry it up? Pretty soon I'm gonna find myself up to my neck in ears, fingers, noses and toes that turned black and fell off from frostbite out here and I'm not plannin' on spending my time sorting out who's bits go where." He yelled to the guards.

"Calm down, Bones- or don't. Maybe you need to keep your blood pressure up to stay warm." Jim guessed jumping up and down like a pogo stick, but the cold didn't seem to dampen his spirit any. "I mean, I guess this is pretty hard for you. What's winter like in Georgia? 45 degrees or something?" He looked skeptically at his friend and smiled curiously. "Does Georgia even get a winter?"

McCoy shook his head slowly at the asinine question. "No, Jim. Georgia's God's magical country and we've been blessed with gettin' to skip the entire season whenever we want. Every July the whole state gets together to vote on it."

"I believe it 'cause the one time you drug me down there the place seemed to be having two summers at once. God it was like the pit of hell." He recalled with a mildly disgusted look on his face. From what I remembered it was much the same way so his dislike for the intense heat and humidity was well taken, although for me it was offset a great deal by all the fresh peaches I cared to eat. After a few more moments of contemplation he mused, "But I guess it makes sense because if the devil went down to Georgia, it must mean Georgia's geographically somewhere below hell."

"That's right." McCoy casually agreed with an arched eyebrow. "Hell is up north and that means Satan's a yankee."

Jim looked around his friend to me and asked with mock offense, "Collins, you gonna let Mr. Optional Winter here disparage us? C'mon, you're from Chicago so you should be used to this." He charged. When I only stared at him spitefully he moved on. "Chekov, help me out here. Chicago and Iowa is one thing, but Russia has got to be like this or worse."

He lowered his hands from his face just long enough to quickly answer, "I'm not from Siberia." He seemed semi-insulted at the insinuation. "It vas not this cold vhere I lived. I can't feel my face."

McCoy glanced at him and sarcastically growled, "Still there, unfortunately." He paused and began looking around at the huddled masses. "Speaking of low tolerance, anybody seen Spock? Probably a six foot lime slushie by now." I hadn't thought of it, but he was right. The few times I'd been in his quarters it felt like a sauna so he'd no doubt be freezing more than the rest of us.

"No, but I talked to him before we left and he told me he had like six layers on." Jim scoffed. "I mean, smart I guess, but still." He could pretend all he wanted because I could tell by the way he said it he wished he'd thought of it too. For his part, McCoy didn't seem to be too bothered by the cold. He tended to be a bit warm natured as it was which made for tense negotiations when it came time to decide what the ambient temperature in our quarters would be, but in the end I decided it was probably because at least 20% of his blood volume was whiskey which served as antifreeze. Two different approaches with the same outcome: it was hard to tell who was ultimately smarter, him or Spock.

Just as the sun was setting for the very short day I made it to the front of the line. The guard stared at me blankly like he really couldn't care less about his job while he scanned my eyes as a means of identification. He glanced down at the screen and droned, "Division." It came out more as a statement than a question which was confusing.

"Medical?" I guessed as though my blue jacket wasn't enough of a giveaway. I got that under different circumstances the crew may have acted up to relieve tension, but it was way too damn cold to swap gear with anyone from security or engineering just for giggles.

"Occupation." He all but yawned but I couldn't blame him really. It was his lot in life to stand outside in the freezing cold all day performing the same motions and asking the same questions hundreds of times over.

I'd been to England before and always felt bad for the poor queen's guards, but suddenly like an idiotic tourist I wanted to see if I could get him to laugh. Still, I held it together and dutifully responded, "Counselor."

He briefly narrowed his eyes at me as though he either intensely disliked people in my line of work or perhaps thought I was making it up entirely, but in any event he returned his attention to his screen and stated "42." I had no idea what that was supposed to mean and my confusion seemed to in turn baffle him as to why I was still standing there. He looked down to his screen once more just to be sure of things and again declared "42" like it was supposed to mean something. Sensing the interaction was supposed to be over, I slowly nodded and walked away toward McCoy who was waiting.

"That took awhile. Everything ok?" He asked once I approached. "Where are you?"

I looked to him in a daze. "I have no idea." If he meant in a general sense I knew I was on a Romulan outpost, but despite Pavel's efforts I didn't know where in space that was nor did I have any inkling as to where I was supposed to be now that I was through the gates.

He squinted suspiciously, but it didn't go unnoticed by me he turned his body slightly to block a gust of wind from blasting me in the face while he was scrutinizing the situation. It was always the little things with him. "You mean he didn't give you a room assignment?" He checked.

I shrugged to indicate my cluelessness. "All he said was 42."

He slowly smiled down at me and said, "Yeah, that's your quarters. What did you think it meant?"

"I don't know. The answer to life, the universe and everything?" I defended a little testily. He kept forgetting I was largely new to this whole world hopping thing and while I should have been flattered he thought me intelligent enough to figure it out, I often felt quite the opposite.

He looked to me befuddled for the briefest of moments until his features softened a bit and he chuckled. "Oh right. The Hitchhiker's Guide book you gave me. Well, bad news. I forgot my towel." He admitted turning to walk which suggested I should follow. "And as much as I'd like to think these Romulans are mostly harmless, I'm not taking anything for granted."

We walked in silence for awhile broken only by the soft crunching of snow under our boots, the cold dry air punctuated by the smell of smouldering wood fires until we reached what looked like a small cabin among a thicket of trees. Unlike the resort-like starbase we visited with well planned streets lined with cottages, here inside the walls they took a more organic approach of squeezing in buildings where they could fit on the ground with more perched in the trees connected by wooden bridges. "Is this me?" I asked pointing to the shack that looked as though it were already occupied based on the soft glow of interior lights and smoke rising from the chimney.

"Nope." He smiled wickedly pointing upward. When he noted my reticence, he gave me a comforting smile. "Aw, c'mon. think of it like one of those glass and steel high rise death traps you used to live in." He gently teased. "Except here you get a better view than a brick wall."

I thought back to the old treehouse by the stream at his childhood home and it all made sense why he was uncharacteristically sanguine about it all. I'd forgotten he was more or less arboreal from what he told me and I wondered if that was where he gained his climbing skills. I supposed there wasn't much of a difference between trees and rocks when it really came down to it. Still I looked up at the lofted buildings skeptically. "I thought you told me the last time you went up a tree you came down with a cat attached to your face and broke your arm."

He squinted down at me but he wasn't irritated, he was trying his best not to let the snow cut his corneas to ribbons and his warm smile proved it. "I can't believe you remembered that." He quietly mused as though he'd forgotten it himself. "It wasn't the last time I climbed a tree, but yeah. That damn cat nearly killed me. It's no wonder they're the guardians of the underworld." He grumbled spitefully. "Anyway, we're not climbin'. You can take the stairs," he pointed to a tree about 20 feet away with a series of spiraling boards protruding from the trunk all the way up, "or you can take the elevator." He stated gesturing to a platform rigged with a rope and pulley system balanced by a counter weight.

I looked from one to the other disdainfully because neither seemed particularly expedient, but nonetheless equally likely to kill me should they fail and I fell to the frozen ground below. I wasn't particularly afraid of heights but I sure thought McCoy would've been once bitten twice shy about the whole prospect given his recent experience. "If we take the stairs we might warm up some." I suggested half-heartedly.

He glanced over to them and I could see him clench his jaw before he tensely informed me, "Maybe, but if your hands and feet are numb like mine once we start up our hearts will pump harder which will bring colder blood into the core. If it's cold enough it could trigger cardiac arrest. Why do you think so many otherwise healthy people drop dead of heart attacks shovelin' snow?"

It never ceased to amaze me how he was always able to sense danger just around the corner. Maybe Jim was right- maybe he was Spiderman. If that were the case he could just toss up some webbing and pull us up. I certainly trusted him more than either of our current options. "Why don't we just go slow then?" I cautiously floated as an option. "We don't have to race each other." He still seemed wary of it, but gestured for me to go first as though I were the canary in the cardiac coal mine.

It was a long, slow climb and thankfully we didn't meet anyone trying to come down. There wasn't a lot of room to pass which meant if one followed the customary rules of the road the ascending person would be smashed up against the rough grain of the tree bark while the descending one was faced with partially leaning over the thin rail over the ground below, both parties negotiating icy wedged shaped stairs of questionable carpentry. On the whole a slip and fall demise seemed far more likely than death by sudden heart failure. I stopped once I reached the platform to wait for McCoy. The cold air somehow seemed even thinner as though I'd just climbed a mountain and it burned in my dry nasal passages, but McCoy was right: the view was amazing.

Even though the sun had set for the incredibly short day and the stars only started to twinkle and shine in the dark sky, the moonlight cast a pale glow on the rough hewn city walls and the wilds beyond. A vast swath of snow covered trees stretched on as far as the eye could see amid the gently rolling hills. I felt McCoy wrap his arm around my shoulders and pull me in tight. His breath made ghostly clouds as he exhaled slightly winded from his climb, but he too seemed mesmerized by the beauty nature laid out before him. Even though it was colder than it was when we arrived, I felt warm in his presence. I wanted to enjoy the moment in silence, but deep inside I felt the beast I created begin to stir. It was only a matter of time before it had to be fed.


	28. Phone Home

Chapter 28- Phone Home

McCoy's cabin was catty corner to mine separated by two connecting wooden plank bridges and in all truth was a little nicer which made me regret insisting on separate accommodations even if it was a necessity. Just by virtue of the way the shacks were built, each was slightly different. Mine seemed to be constructed in a way so as to completely circle a large offshoot of the main trunk growing directly through the center of the room while his was perched in the fork of two branches giving him more open space. I merely dropped my gear in my room, ducked into the bathroom to see to business, hid the hypo under the mattress, and spent the rest of the day helping McCoy crisscross the compound putting orders in for the items he needed to requisition and arrange for transport up to the ship.

Like any bureaucracy there was miles of red tape and delays in ship times to be negotiated which was why we were sent on a wild goose chase looking for this or that person to give approval. Sometimes we managed to get the job done, but more often than not we waited in line just to be told we needed to be in a different line somewhere else. For the most part McCoy miraculously managed to keep his temper in check, although there was one point at which I thought he was going to vault the counter and throttle the poor clerk when he was told he needed to go find a person we'd just talked to in order to secure only half the number of a particular size bandage he requested but at double the price. Overall, it was like being in a hamlet full of nothing but DMV offices staffed by cheerless mobster Romulans. On the whole they weren't aggressive as I knew them to generally be, but they weren't necessarily cooperative either. If they were supposed to be on our side it certainly didn't seem like it.

After a long day of trudging through the cold and snow and endless aggravation, McCoy and I decided to spend the evening at his place. Despite what the outsides may have looked like, the interiors were nicely finished with a curious mix of indiginous rustic nature and slick modern esthetic reflective of the unusual alliance between Romulan rebels and the Federation that just somehow worked unlike actually doing business with them. "Need any help?" He asked peeking around the corner of the bathroom wall into the larger main studio style space where I busied myself building a fire. He was too cold and impatient to wait so he opted for a hot shower and judging by the way his outer gear of coat, boots, and gloves were scattered in a trail toward the wall of steam that rolled out of the room like fog he was fairly desperate.

"I think I got it." I replied, concentrating on the task at hand. There were a few tense moments when I wasn't sure if my fledgling fire would roar to life or die with a pathetic whimper, but with enough encouragement and patience it came popping and crackling into existence to fill the room with the rich smell of smoke and warmth.

He reappeared with his hair in a wet shaggy mess pulling a fairly thick long sleeve black shirt down over his torso to match what looked like sweatpants. He seemed content now that he was warm and comfortable, but he had the courtesy to clean up his mess of discarded clothing before taking a seat on the bench at the end of the bed not far from the fire. He watched the flames dance for a bit before he looked to me and patted the empty space next to him. "Come sit with me." He requested with a small smirk before he almost bashfully admitted, "I was gonnna call home and I thought maybe you'd like to say hi."

"Really? I didn't think we were in range." I replied curiously while I gently poked and prodded the logs to spread them out a bit more and create better airflow.

"Sort of." He grumbled while he fell backwards in a bizarre twisting arched motion to retrieve the PADD off the bed where he apparently dropped it when we came in. I couldn't help but stare and think maybe as he fell out of the tree while fighting the cat he somehow absorbed its power of remarkable flexibility, but it also explained his uncanny near narcoleptic ability and general sourpuss attitude. "We're close enough to pick up a signal, but it might be a bit weak. Still, we're out here on the fringes and as I see it, I'd better take chances as they come along 'cause I don't know how many more I'll have or when." He sat forward with his elbows on his knees poking at the device with an intense expression as though he were trying to make it connect through sheer force of will.

"Maybe I shouldn't." I demurred gently taking the proffered seat next to him. When he looked to me with the same apprehensive expression he wore when I told him I wanted separate rooms, I knew I had to do some damage control so I lightly rubbed his back and explained. "Calling Joanna from the ship is one thing because it makes more sense to her for us both to be there in uniform like we're working. But here?" I asked gesturing to the cozy room lit by the warm ambient glow of the fire. "This might be a little too out of context for her. Kids are very observant, McCoy. Even if she doesn't completely understand everything, seeing us in this setting will probably strike her as a bit odd and you might find yourself having that conversation we talked about with her earlier than you expected."

My logic if not the casual contact seemed to at least partially quell his unease, but he was still a bit tense through his smile. "I know she's pretty smart, but I plan on crossing that bridge later rather than sooner. I'll talk to her before we leave, but I was thinkin' of Leti." His voice was soft and just a bit distant as though he felt guilty. "She asked me to contact her once in awhile 'cause I never do and she's right." He sniffed and looked down at his scowling reflection in the slick blackness of the dark PADD screen and in a barely audible growl he murmured, "Aside from Jo she's all the family I got left."

His sadness permeated the room to an almost unbearable pitch and I wrapped my arms around him to pull him into a supportive hug. I wanted to tell him thanks to Jim he had me, but I thought better of it because if he knew what all I'd done I would be as dead to him as his parents, sisters, and ex-wife. Instead I opted for the easy out and forced a cheerful, "She thinks the world of you and I'm sure she'd love to hear from you."

"And you too." He persisted hopefully while he lightly drummed his fingers on the PADD in anticipation. I wasn't exactly sure at first why it was so important to him for me to participate as if he were scared of her, but the more I thought about it the more probable it seemed he wanted me there as a means of letting her know he really was doing alright. My presence lent him some measure of authenticity because as the ship's counselor I could attest to his mental wellbeing, but on a practical level she was also clued in to our less than professional association so on that front my absence might raise suspicion. I rolled my eyes in mock irritation like he was asking the world of me and gestured for him to get on with his business. He gently smiled at being granted his wish and leaned over to kiss my cheek. "Merci, darlin'. Je vou dois." He purred in my ear.

I looked to him with glazed eyes at the French that somehow still retained his sweet southern drawl. I had no idea what he said beyond thanking me, but it really didn't matter. He could have made it all up for all I cared because coming from him it had the same effect. "I already started a fire and here you go setting another. You'd better make this call fast and short." I flirtatiously warned.

He said nothing, but returned his attention to his device with a broad self-satisfied smile while he tapped at it furiously. Once he was finally able to get an adequate connection, he held it between us so we would both be on screen. Leti's face appeared and I could tell from her surroundings she was sitting at her kitchen table where she insisted on serving me chicory coffee least she be considered a bad hostess. Her expression was initially a mix of confusion and annoyance, but it quickly exploded into sheer joy as her eyes lit up and she exclaimed with great enthusiasm, "Leonard! Oh my! Is that really you?" She leaned in closer as though she could reach through the screen and grab his face to better scrutinize him.

He raised an eyebrow skeptically and asked, "How many brothers do you have?"

She pushed some of her stray dark hair out of her eyes and sighed in wonder. "It's just, I...I mean I wasn't expecting it to be you. Well, I thought maybe at some point I'd hear from you, but not this fast." She stammered.

McCoy scowled and cocked his head slightly in suspicion. It was obvious something had tripped his ultrasensitive trouble radar. "Leti," he slowly growled, "what's goin' on?"

She looked to him almost apologetically before her attention was diverted to the sound of children yelling in the background as they played. "How many times have I told you not in the house?" She turned to scold them. "Go outside or go your rooms this instant. Honey, not you. Come say hello." She instructed in a softer tone. I wondered if she was talking to his young nephew. Such young children were plenty capable of wreaking havoc all on their own, but they were just as easily roped into bad behaviors by older siblings they weren't really responsible for.

McCoy nearly dropped the PADD when Joanna appeared and shouted "Daddy!" before kissing the screen. She then waved at me and cheerily greeted, "Hi, Dr. Collins!"

Even though he was still in shock and terribly confused, he did what all good parents do and plastered his face with a relaxed and friendly expression as though he expected to see her. I did much the same and waved back to her. "Hey, sweetheart." He stated trying to walk the fine line between friendly neutrality and deep suspicion. "Are you visiting your cousins?"

"Yeah, mom said Phoenix was too hot." She answered matter of factly. She did look as though her skin had tanned since last I saw her. Her mood suddenly lifted as she changed topics and proclaimed "I took the video you gave me for my birthday to school because it was career day, so I told the class you were a doctor on a star ship with captain Kirk. They asked lots of questions, some I didn't know, but after that a lot of them wanted to be my friend."

"Oh," he exclaimed in a supportive tone, "that's nice that you made some friends at your new school."

"Uh huh, and the teacher said maybe one day the school could call you and you could talk to the class about your job, but I don't think they're going to do that anymore." She informed him a little sadly.

"Because I'm usually far away?" He guessed with a squint.

"No, because I don't go to that school anymore." She corrected. She really did seem bothered by the fact that she lost the friends she briefly made and was starting over from square one again.

"Ok, sweetie. Say goodbye to your daddy and then run along." Leti instructed a little hastily. I wasn't sure about McCoy, but I certainly had a bad feeling about it all and fished my PADD out of my bag to start looking into it. My plan seemed to have unraveled and I was fairly certain as to why.

"Be good and mind your aunt Leti while you're at her house." He sternly advised his daughter. "I promise I'll call you before I leave. I love you, darlin'." The way the words rolled off his lips with such complete ease and sincerity caught my attention. He described how when she was younger he was her go-to and in turn after long shifts at the hospital the only thing he wanted more than food or sleep was to see her. It was a relationship neither he nor I had with our own fathers it seemed, but it was beautiful that she got to experience devotion that not time nor distance could diminish.

After a departing kiss to the camera from Joanna, Leti waited for her to leave the room before letting out a deep sigh. "I swear that snake of a woman you had that precious child with will be the death of us all." She stated in an irritated whisper.

McCoy seemed utterly exhausted and defeated at the thought of once more being drug into a war he didn't want to fight but couldn't walk away from. He hung his head slightly and warily asked, "What the hell's goin' on, Leti?"

She gave him a sympathetic look and tried to sound positive for his sake. "Her mother came back from Arizona, but didn't have anywhere to go so she came here. Now she well knows how we feel about her so she didn't stay, but I talked her into leavin' Joanna here for me to watch until she gets herself settled. I thought she told you."

McCoy rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration while he grumbled miserably, "She never tells me anything." My lips subconsciously hardened into a straight line across my face because I knew for a fact it was outlined in the paperwork I had drawn up that while by necessity she had physical custody of Joanna, McCoy had equal say in regards to major decisions such as moving across state lines or changing schools. Out of spite or habit she intentionally left him out of the loop for reasons known only to her. He by law could have pushed the issue legally but I just knew he wouldn't. As much as the status quo irritated him, he just seemed to be used to it and didn't want to make things even more complicated, even if he had every right to.

"Well no matter, your little girl's safe with me." She declared breezilly. "She's a little pig headed just like her daddy sometimes, but thankfully she doesn't have your sharp tongue yet." She teased. "Although I suspect it's only a matter of time. Between you and her mother she's got it in her genes somewhere I'm sure."

He gave his sister a mock scowl, but ended up smirking. "'I'll try to send some credits to you for as long as you have her. It's only fair."

"Oh no you won't!" She stated vehemently, her eyes narrowing with her conviction. "I know that woman sucked you dry to the point you ain't got nothin' left to give and besides, Jo's no trouble whatsoever. No sir. I'll not have it." She emphasized.

He briefly attempted a stare off with her, but in the end had to admit defeat because she ultimately held all the cards and she wasn't about to back down. He looked away with a heavy sense of shame about how a bad choice made long ago continued to haunt him and those he loved which was a sentiment I could well relate to. "Thanks, Leti." He mumbled quietly.

She gave him a warm, comforting smile and knowingly asked, "Isn't that what family's for? Without that, we'd all be lost."


	29. Crash

Chapter 29- Crash

Even though I wanted to stay with McCoy for some French lessons, I was reasonably sure he was no longer in the mood. Besides, I had bigger business to attend to, but I had to get away from him to get it done. Just as I suspected, my 6 month stipend agreement with Joslyn had expired so she no longer had access to my credits. While I was glad she had the foresight to leave Joanna with Leti, the fact she was back in the area with no clear plan of how to survive did not bode well. I needed to contact her to find out what was going on and if it was what I suspected it might be, formulate an exit strategy for Joanna. No matter her mother's choices she at least deserved some stability.

I quickly but carefully made my way across the first bridge connecting trees and nearly ran into Spock while I was absorbed in reading my PADD. "Dr. Collins." He greeted in his usual manner. "Given our elevation and the slippery conditions, might I suggest you delay reading until once you've reached your destination." He offered helpfully.

I hadn't realized he was my proverbial neighbor until I noted his hand still clinging to the knob of his heavy door as he was pulling it closed. "Yeah, I know. I'm just a bit busy." I replied lamely. It was pretty stupid when people walked out into the middle of the street with thier faces buried in their phones, so me essentially doing the same with the added vertical challenge seemed downright suicidal.

He regarded me with his dark eyes as he wrapped his scarf around his neck and the bottom portion of his face to ward off the chill. "I understand and as this is not a shore leave, you are permitted and in fact expected to work when required. However, ultimately no work will be done if you are injured or dead from a fall at this height due to inattention so it is perhaps best to prioritize."

"Aye, Sir." I nodded stuffing it into my bag. I wasn't about to argue with him because I knew therein lie madness.

From the small glint that lit up in his eyes I could discern he was pleased not only by my work ethic, but my decision to put it off until a better time. "Will you be attending this evening's festivities?" He inquired in a more congenial tone. "It is my understanding the outpost's inhabitants will be celebrating the winter holiday where osol twists and spiced ale will be offered."

It probably was in my best interest to observe cultural habits of other civilizations, but ever since the replicator gagh incident I'd been a little gun shy about trying exotic foods. I wasn't sure what an osol was, but I imagined it to be something slimy or otherwise pungent. "I don't think so." I politely declined. "Work." I reminded him gesturing to my now safely stowed PADD.

He nodded in understanding. "Unfortunately, I have been notified by the captain that my attendance is mandatory. I suspect his intention is not to be observant of host custom, but Romulans view Vulcans more favorably than humans and I believe he will use my presence to overcome this obstacle as a means of meeting with a particular woman he met today in the main provisions office." He seemed rather bored and put out by the whole scheme, yet determined to play along if he had to. "In any case, I will inform him he may have your share of ale."

I bid him good luck and made my way across the last stretch of bridge that swayed slightly as I carefully tread across the boards. The minute I shut the door to my room I shrugged out of my coat and set to work. The room was chilly since I hadn't really spent any time in it since I arrived, but I hardly noticed. I messaged Joslyn and hoped that she would not only get it, but have the courage to respond. I tried to keep the content neutral and vague just in case she wasn't the first or only one to read it, but I secretly feared the worst.

As I paced the floor I tried to pull together a plan to not only manage McCoy's reaction to the whole idea of having his daughter be essentially abandoned without his knowledge even if it was with his sister, but to also try to find a way to help Joslyn without enabling her. In some ways, I realized I may have created the mess we were in by pulling the restraints too tight. I was so focused on securing McCoy's parental rights in locktight fashion in perpetuity unless he did something unlawful that I may have closed off her only route for seeking help. Even though her tendency to manipulation was unhealthy for all involved, it was a means for her to signal she was in trouble and I may have inadvertently taken that from her. In breaking the rules of not getting too involved with patients all in an effort to help, it seemed I caused more problems than I fixed and the thought of it made me sick.

I was staring down the barrel of a long night of potential messaging, negotiation, and drafting of paperwork ahead and I was tired. As had become a habit for me, I numbly dug under the mattress for the hypo that contained my salvation but paused when I noted the vial was empty. I'd used the last of it that morning but was in too much of a rush to meet McCoy to replace it, so I retrieved the spare from deep in my bag and reloaded it. I sat on the end of the bed in the cold, dimly lit room and rolled up my sleeve not really feeling anything. There was a time when I would have felt something- guilt, anger, fear, anything but the total acceptance that turned to craving if I went too long between hits. For me, using had become as natural and necessary as breathing. I pressed the cool metal against my skin and listened to the familiar soft hiss of the instrument pushing the drug through my body into my bloodstream, although it seemed to last a bit longer than usual.

I sat quietly and waited for the warm energy to gently fill me as it usually did, but when it came sooner and more forceful than usual it felt all wrong. My head almost hurt with the sheer volume of fear tinged thoughts that raced in my mind in a blur and my heart was pounding so hard black dots danced in front of my eyes. Suddenly I felt so hot like my entire body was on fire and I reflexively fell to my knees on the floor and vomited until I had nothing left. Once the retching subsided somewhat, I panted with hitched breaths and reached for the hypo with shaking hands to inspect it. I knew what was happening to me- I was overdosing and although I had to blink several times to clear them from the dots and sweat that streamed down my face my worst fear was confirmed. Between being pushed deep between the bedding and yanked out again the dosage setting had been jostled to nearly three times what I intended, which was already fairly high due to the tolerance I quickly developed. It was a stupid, careless mistake but it was too late- there were no do overs.

I sat slumped with my back against the bed and tried to get at least some control of my body by trying to slow my breaths which would in turn lower my racing heart because I knew a heart attack or stroke would be in the offing if they continued for too long at sky high rates, but I just couldn't seem to will either to calm down. I felt full of nervous energy like I was being electrocuted but strangely weak and tired at the same time. My clothes clung to me with sweat but I couldn't concentrate long enough to take them off. I only had brief flashes of clarity amid the thick fog that filled my head and I tried to use them as best I could to decide what to do.

The easiest and most reasonable option would be to summon McCoy to come save my miserable life. Weak and disoriented as I was, I thought I could still manage to find my PADD to message him. It might not make a lot of sense, but if anything it might serve to underline the gravity of the emergency I was facing. Even if he wasn't near his device I could always drag myself to the door and just scream his name until he or any other living being heard me. If I did either of those things then he could find me and use his skills to once again pull me from the jaws of death. I didn't have much time, but I had a shot of surviving if only he knew I needed help.

But I didn't do those things. I remained piled in a sweaty twitching heap as though I were glued to the floor because I just couldn't bring myself to live through it. Somewhere between the passing clouds of disorientation I made the decision that to die of shame was a better option than the pain and embarrassment I'd have to face by letting him and potentially everyone on my side of the outpost know about my lies and addiction. I once heard the mark of a good fighter was knowing when you'd been beat and in that moment I knew I lost. I'd already squandered not one but two chances at redemption and I wondered what officer Mike would think of me knowing I failed him. I knew once my body was found McCoy would be devastated and the crew would all shake their heads in disbelief, but I wouldn't be around to see them. It was cowardly on my part, but I just couldn't face the consequences of my actions. Not this time.

The last thing I remembered was falling over on my side hard enough that my head bounced off the rough floorboards and the sight of the full moon streaming through the open window as I began to shake and choke while my vision grew fuzzy.


	30. Day of Reckoning

Chapter 30- Day of Reckoning

Everything was so hazy and disorienting that I wasn't sure if I was dreaming or dead. At one point I was surrounded by muffled noises and the wonderful feeling of intense cold on my hot forehead. On another occasion I felt the sharp stab of a slap on my cheek and my eyes were pried open to see McCoy's intensely grim scowl peering down at me before he was obliterated by a bright light that was in turn immediately swallowed by darkness. But eventually, everything came slowly into sustained focus and I squinted despite the relatively low lighting because my head hurt. I immediately recognized where I was by the ambient smell of antiseptic. I was in sickbay which meant I survived, but I wasn't happy and neither was the reason for it as he sat next to the bed with one foot on the edge and his arms folded belligerently across his chest. His expression was etched in stone and clearly conveyed that while he was somewhat relieved I was awake, he was mostly angry and I had some serious explaining to do. I knew he deserved one too, but I just couldn't do it and looked away from him in shame.

His eyes softened a little, but his voice was laden with the fatigue and stress that had apparently been consuming him for some time. "You were dehydrated and hyperthermic which triggered seizures." He was in full clinical mode which was almost worse because it meant he felt he had to quarantine the personal side of him from my infectious reach. He sighed and let his leg fall to the floor with a dull thud and added, "I think I got the seizures under control, but your body temperature's still a little high so you'll be here for awhile for observation."

"Ok." I meekly mumbled. I didn't really care what he did with me to be honest. The sickbay was mostly silent save the beeping of the machines that watched me intently but otherwise seemed abandoned aside from McCoy and I. I supposed the rest of the staff were still on the surface.

"No, it's not ok." He said a bit forcefully. "Do you know why your body went into meltdown mode like a thermonuclear reactor?" He reached over to the cart and retrieved the hypo I'd stolen from his desk. "It's a pretty common side effect of high doses of amphetamine which if the setting's right, you took enough to put down an elephant. Were you purposely tryin' to kill yourself?" He nearly hissed in either anger or desperation I couldn't tell which.

"No, it was a mistake." I wasn't a child and I wasn't in the mood for his lectures. If I wanted to kill myself I'd go for opiates. Death would come slowly and peacefully like drifting off to sleep which was the best anyone could hope for as opposed to stimulants that made your heart nearly explode in your chest in a blind panic. Any self-respecting junkie knew that.

He tossed the instrument back onto the cart with a clatter and huffed. "You're damn lucky Spock decided to bail on Jim after one drink. He said he walked past your room to get to his and it sounded like you were fightin' someone so when you didn't answer he looked through the window and saw you convulsing on the floor. He kicked the door down to get in and called me. By that point you were already burnin' up so we grabbed some snow to try to get the fever down until we could get you back on the ship. If we didn't…" He stopped short and didn't need to say it. I would've been dead. He pursed his lips and his hardened eyes were tempered with just a touch of sadness. "It's where I found the hypo. You had a death grip on it."

While I was sure Spock may have been surprised or a little concerned to find me as I was, he was not a man given to fear or panic and probably handled the situation in a logical, straightforward manner without much ado. Not that he probably didn't care, but he was the type to just focus on what had to be done in the moment rather than waste time. The worst aspect of it all for him would probably be the mountain of paperwork that it all would entail. I'd also witnessed McCoy deal with far worse although not as calmly. He wasn't a pearl clutcher to be sure, but he had a harder time separating what he thought from what he felt than Spock did, so I couldn't imagine what it must have been like for him to be completely blindsided as he was. This wasn't some random accident or just so much more post-skirmish collateral damage, this was destruction of the worst kind: self-inflicted. Even though I knew it was utterly meaningless to him, I couldn't help but reflexively murmur, "I'm sorry."

It had about as much effect as I anticipated and he shook his head slowly in disappointment. "You know what, Morgan? I'll buy that it was a mistake because the hypo's not what bothers me. What I really wanna know is if me or Spock searches your quarters, how many more of these will we find?" He cooly asked holding up an empty vial in his left hand, the sleek glass glinting in the soft light.

I glanced away grinding my teeth because any chance I had to in any way spin the whole debacle in my favor just dissipated into thin air. "I don't know." I grumbled. "I stopped counting."

His eyes narrowed to pinpoint laser accuracy at being lied to yet again. "Ballpark it." He demanded bitterly.

I felt sick with guilt and if I was honest a little scared of him. This wasn't the man I'd come to know over my time on the ship, this was the wrathful CMO that was an enigma to me when I first came. I sighed in exasperation and just spat out a number. "6?" I guessed.

He looked down to the floor with such sadness it nearly made me wince. "So then at least 12 or more." He quietly concluded. "C'mon, Morgan. I know as well as you that with these sorts of things it's always at least twice as much as claimed." Of course he was right. Minimization was a well known trait among liars, addicts, and thieves to hide their crimes.

I swallowed hard to try to shove all the disgust and self-loathing I felt deep down inside and looked at the ceiling. Despite everything he couldn't bring himself to call me an addict even though I told him I was and now he had absolute proof. I also noticed he used my first name. To him this was personal and it was awful, but it quickly got worse.

"Bones," Jim called from the doorway, "I need to talk to you." His tone was flat and authoritative as though he knew I was awake but chose to ignore me like a non-person. McCoy slowly rose from his seat being sure to take the hypo with him just in case I got any ideas but stopped within my eyeline. Although they talked in hushed tones they didn't make much of an effort to preclude me as if I didn't exist in the same room. "Spock's gonna be down here soon." He warned. "I can hold him off for awhile, but sooner or later he's gonna send her to the brig."

McCoy's eyebrows immediately shot up and he hissed in a barely controlled rage while he gestured toward me, "This isn't the damn middle ages. She's not a criminal, Jim. She's sick and needs help, not punishment!"

"That's your side of it, but he's got a point too." He sighed in frustration. "Bones, she stole medicine from your department for the sole purpose of getting high. That's gotta be at least five different serious violations." He reasoned.

"Jim, wait." He pleaded a little calmer. "Look, I get it. But can we maybe just, you know, be a little more discreet with this?" He requested quietly with an intense expression on his face. "If you toss her in the brig word will spread faster than a case of Andorian herpes then everyone will know. If Spock absolutely has to drop the hammer, let's at least have a little mercy. You can't let him destroy her completely because if we do there'll be no comin' back from that." I was saddened and confused that no matter what I did to him and his professional reputation he was still trying to protect the remnants of mine, tattered and stained as it now was.

Jim was quiet for a moment, but finally asked, "Ok, what did you have in mind?" To his credit he was never afraid to think outside of the box or entertain novel solutions to problems, of which I was a big one for him. He owed me absolutely nothing so I assumed he was only playing along for McCoy's sake.

"We have an isolation unit in the storage bay in engineering." He proposed. "I can ask Scotty to secure it and I'll stay down there."

"Like, all the time?" He asked skeptically. "You can't do that. I need you to run your department."

"Not forever," he sighed exasperated while rolling his eyes, "although it's not a half bad idea. I'll just hide down there until you come tap on the glass when the whole mission's over and it's time to go home." He shook his head and got back to business in a voice laden with weary inevitability. "I'll just have to do both. The worst is over, but she's not out of the woods yet. Pretty soon withdrawal symptoms will set in and she'll need supervision."

"How long does that last?" He inquired. It was clear no matter his reputation for being a bit of a bad boy that he had absolutely no experience with the effects of drug use and the even worse consequences of suddenly stopping. At least he sounded somewhat sympathetic to my future plight even if I wasn't.

McCoy's voice dropped and he sighed miserably, "I don't know. Three or four days at least- maybe more. It seems she was using a hell of a lot and that kind of tolerance takes awhile to build up, so it's gonna be real nasty to come down from. All I can say with any certainty is it's gonna get a whole lot worse before it gets better." I sank deeper in my blanket because of what my choices did to him. He was trying his best to manage the medical side of things all while calling in personal favors to salvage my professional standing. It was clear it was straining him to the breaking point on all fronts and it was all my fault.

"Alright," he consented with a weary sigh as though he just wanted to wash his hands of it all, "see what Scotty can do and I'll figure out how I'm gonna deal with this." His directive was just cryptic enough to give me pause. I was no fool. I knew there was no way I'd escape unscathed nor should I, but for the first time the fact my future was now uncertain hit home. Jim could do anything from demote me to demand my resignation but ultimately no matter what his decision, I knew as a traitor I deserved far worse.


	31. Dead Woman Walking

A/N: Woohooo! Seems we will be getting a new Trek movie with the whole cast returning. Christmas came early, y'all.

Chapter 31- Dead Woman Walking

12 hours later my fate was sealed. McCoy tried arguing with Spock, but even he knew he had little ground to stand on since my body temperature was back to normal if not a bit lower than it should have been. I didn't say anything or even make eye contact with anyone least of all Spock who stood perfectly straight with his hands behind his back much like the first time I met him. Jim hovered nearby with his arms across his chest and a stern yet semi-uncomfortable expression on his face. "C'mon, Collins." He ordered a bit reluctantly. "Let's go."

I dutifully stood to follow them on their perp walk through the ship to the lower decks and held my wrists out for Spock to handcuff me. "Oh come on!" McCoy howled. "Can we not do that? She's on a ship. Where the hell's she gonna run off to?" He reasoned.

Jim looked to Spock who hadn't moved a muscle and gave a small shrug. "I think we're good here. It's not like she can fly a shuttle or run the transporters." He obviously didn't deem me a physical threat either. On a good day I could tango with him mentally, but I simply couldn't fathom getting into a fistfight with him and Spock was absolutely out of the question. If Jim was a bare knuckles brawler, Spock was a ninja who was faster and much stronger than I and could nerve pinch me into oblivion in a heartbeat.

Judging by the way he looked down on me roughly the same thoughts occurred to him. "Very well. Dr. Collins, if you will agree to be compliant we will allow you to walk freely. The captain and I will escort you to engineering where Dr. McCoy has set aside quarters for you until a time when this issue can be resolved."

Jim turned expectantly to McCoy as if to ask if he were satisfied with the arrangement. McCoy gave him a small appreciative nod and turned his attention to me to silently wish me luck but I just stared at the floor, following Jim and Spock's feet out of sickbay and to the lifts. McCoy may have said I wasn't a criminal, but I certainly felt like one. It was an uncomfortably silent ride that was shattered by a cacophony of noise once we reached the engineering levels. Some of the crew were starting to return to the ship and the department was in disarray with stacks of crates containing newly acquired provisions to be cataloged and people running around trying to get the contents dispersed to the correct areas. I looked to the towering structures and wondered if any of them contained McCoy's pricey bandages.

To my left I heard Sulu's voice call, "Hey, Collins! We didn't see you down there. Where have you been?" Behind him Pavel waved to me and Uhura smiled as she slung her bag over her shoulder. I gave them a tense smile and waved back, but said nothing. It felt like there was such a gulf between us now because they were still the good guys with bright futures while I'd thrown mine away. Even though I wasn't worthy of it, I was grateful for the mercy of the ship's commanding officers because to the lunch crew it just looked like Jim, Spock, and I were casually strolling together managing the influx of goods and people rather than the awful spectacle it secretly was. I'd never felt lower in my life.

We walked to the back of the storage section where one of the built-in pods had been encased in thick shatterproof glass and marked with the blue caduceus indicating it belonged to sickbay. The room was a bare stark white devoid of any color and sparsely furnished. There was only a single bed constructed of a solid metal frame and thin mattress. Against the far wall a cylindrical toilet with a shallow sink on top of the tank sat in full view with no privacy. It was cold and dehumanizing, but it was to be my new home and it was probably better than what I deserved. "You go ahead, Spock." Jim darkly suggested waiving him back in the direction we came. "I'll catch up."

Spock stared at him for a second, but gave a tight nod before turning to me. Neither his eyes or voice held any hint of malice or joy in his duties. "Dr. Collins." He said simply, but the way he said it indicated that no matter what it may have looked like, he still regarded me with at least some sense of respect and it was devastating because he really shouldn't have.

After he turned away, Jim reached up to hit a button on the right wall and the glass door slid open silently. He didn't look at me, but nonetheless gestured for me to enter. The room was cold which made sense if what McCoy said about it being an isolation unit was true and I stood in the center of it awkwardly. He leaned on the doorframe for a minute, his eyes dark and stormy before he glanced up to me with a glare so fierce it would make even McCoy shriek. "I don't pretend to understand any of this, Collins." He stated in a dangerously low voice that clearly communicated his displeasure. "Bones says you're sick and maybe he's right, but I warned you. I told you I'd look the other way but you'd better have his best interest in mind at all times and I gotta be honest, this isn't it." He narrowed his eyes to better aim his hate daggers at me while he crossed his arms. "I know him and I know he'll never say it, so I will. He'll damn near kill himself mentally and physically running his department and dealing with you because he sees it all as his responsibility. But this," he paused to casually wave his hand around the room I occupied, "is unfair to him. You're destroying him with your selfish bullshit and he doesn't deserve it. Look, Collins, whatever you do to yourself is your business, but you're not taking him down with you. I won't let you." He promised with utter conviction.

His words cut to the very center of me but they were true and I knew it. It was one of the reasons I decided to die rather than ask for McCoy's help. I hurt him, demolished my own reputation, and betrayed the trust of everyone on the ship including Jim who probably didn't realize until that very moment taking me onboard was one of the biggest mistakes he ever made. "I know." I almost whispered in a shaky voice. "I don't deserve him or to be here, so do it."

The tornado of rage subsided in his eyes and was replaced with confusion. "Do what?" He asked almost incredulously and I could see his point. Hadn't he done enough for me already? Who the hell was I to ask him for anything more?

"You promised me if I screwed him over you'd shoot me out an airlock." I reminded in a faraway voice. I felt so detached from everything I wanted nothing more than for it all to end. I remembered well how it felt when Meyers nearly sent me out into the inky blackness of space so I knew there would be a few seconds of pain, but I could bear it if it meant sparing a lifetime of emotional agony over a rift I could never heal. "So do it." I quietly urged him. "Please."

His expression wavered slightly with either fear or shock before solidifying into angry determination. "No." He spat spitefully, reaching out to smack the button to close the door. Before he stormed off, through the thick glass I could hear him explain, "Bones doesn't get an easy out of this and you won't either."

I turned to collapse on the bed sobbing. I just wanted it all to be over, to never see McCoy, Pavel, or any of them ever again because every time I did I would be reminded of what an awful person I was to use them for my own needs. They were all better off without me even if I was the only one courageous enough to admit it. Not more than 10 minutes later I heard the door slide open again and I tried to quickly dry my face so as to not appear too pathetic only to look to McCoy with red swollen eyes. The door closed behind him and he watched me with sad apprehension until I was able to pull myself together enough for him to slowly approach. I immediately noticed his hands were behind his back which could only mean he was hiding a hypo of something. "No, no! McCoy, please." I pleaded with him instinctively standing to back away even though I knew I had nowhere to go. He looked absolutely miserable but he raised his hand with the hypo loaded with a blue capped vial and I knew it to be a sedative. I struggled a little, but he grabbed my upper arm with a firm grip and found his target fairly easily. "Why?" I whined. "I wasn't going to fight you." I told him, desperately suppressing the urge to cry again. I wanted to die and I didn't want drugs, but it seemed like it didn't matter to anyone what I wanted anymore, further underscoring my lack of autonomy.

He immediately moved in closer to wrap one arm around my waist while he gently massaged the injection site with the other hand to ease the stinging. "I know, darlin'." He said softly. I didn't feel I had the right to take any comfort from him by his words or actions even though I sank deeper into him, drawn by the siren song of memories from happier times. The heat from his body and the gentle rumble in his chest when he spoke was soothing. The last thing I remembered was him quietly murmuring "Shhh. I'll be here when you wake up" into my hair right before my knees buckled and he cinched his grip tighter to catch my fall.


	32. Mind Reader

Chapter 32- Mind Reader

McCoy was a lot of things. He was cranky, blunt to the point of rudeness, short on patience, and generally lacking in diplomacy, but he was definitely not a liar nor was he willing to cut his losses even when it was a smart move on his part. So when I woke up stretched out on the bed, I was not in the least bit surprised to see him seated on the floor across from me, knees drawn to his chest and his head laid back against the wall behind him. His eyes were bloodshot with stress and fatigue, but dammit he was there just as he said he'd be. I generally discouraged people from embracing bad behaviors, but I found myself wishing he'd be a little less dependable.

Once I was fully lucid, I became aware of a tightness across my arms and chest, but I couldn't move them. I looked down in horror when I figured out why: he sedated me to get me into a straight jacket. I said I didn't plan on fighting him, but he knew I would the moment I saw it. On the contrary, it was he who didn't want to fight and potentially hurt me manhandling me into it while I bucked and kicked like a steer being hogtied. I couldn't imagine fistfighting Jim, but at that moment I thought I had a reasonable shot at McCoy. He wasn't much of a brawler from what Jim said, so his only option would be climbing a wall to get away from me. "This is humiliating." I angrily accused and it was. I wondered if that was how Saren felt when I approved his restraints.

He heaved a resigned sigh. "Yeah well it was that, stripping the entire room and you naked, or strappin' you to the bed with five point restraints so you can't move." He lazily tossed a finger in my direction to indicate my situation. "This was the best bad solution."

"I don't need to be on suicide watch." I protested. "This isn't fair. You should just leave me on the outpost and go on your way."

He scowled at me and testilly replied, "Well you should've thought about that before you stood there and point blank asked Jim to murder you. As you might imagine, he had some pretty strong feelings about it even if you didn't." The fire in his eyes died down and he let his head fall back to the wall with a thud while a small weary sigh escaped his lips. "I feel I'm always havin' to ask and I shouldn't, but be honest with me, Morgan. If I took that jacket off you and we did leave you here, what would you do?"

I gave a desperate laugh, but if he wanted unadulterated honesty he was about to hit the jackpot. Without hesitation, I answered "I'd stay high all the time doing whatever I had to do to get the drugs I wanted. I'd lie, steal, manipulate, and hurt people until I either died alone frozen to death in a dark back alley or someone killed me. Mine is a wasted life so it doesn't matter what happens now, McCoy. I'd just want to be numb to it all until the end." I really could see no other options. Any chance I had at a decent life was well beyond my reach like a balloon floating to the sky. All I could do was watch it drift further and further away.

Outwardly he didn't seem at all phased by my response, but he nonetheless took a hard right turn into more comfortable territory. "The withdrawal symptoms should be hittin' right about now. Irritability, depression, muscle twitches, sleep problems. It'll be hell for awhile, but it will pass and I'll be here the whole time." He said quietly.

"For god's sake, McCoy! Run. Act like you have some sense and run as far as fast as you can." I yelled. "Jesus, can't you see the plain truth in front of your face? I'm toxic and I'll do worse to you than Joslyn ever dreamed of if you stick around." I desperately warned. "I'm not who you think I am. It's all been a lie, McCoy, I'm not worth it. I tried being respectable but it's not who I am. Putting lipstick on a pig doesn't change anything! I can't outrun the fact I'm nothing more than trailer park trash with an alcoholic father and absent mother. I was never meant to be anything more than that. Everything else has just been playing pretend. I'm not a good guy like you or Spock or any of you. I don't belong here."

Through it all he sat still, silently listening. He never once spoke up to argue or try to give me empty platitudes to make me feel better about any of it. In the end all he did was wait patiently for me to finish my unhinged rant. When he finally did speak, his voice was soft and steady to match the melancholic tint in his eyes as he watched his hands pick at a bit of fuzz he found. "You know, I've been out here for awhile now and in that time I've worked with some good people, not all of who are still around today, and I've seen a lot of profoundly screwed up shit. Things that were incomprehensible and unspeakable in terms of cruelty and suffering. But if there's anything Starfleet's taught me it's that wars are never fought alone. Battles are ugly and they can leave you bloodied and maybe even scarred, but no matter what you always have your crewmates and if you're lucky you somehow live through it." He paused to look up at me with the windows to his soul wide open. "Tryin' to fight this alone is nothin' but a slow motion suicide, Morgan. And yeah, I've lost a few mostly 'cause I chose not to fight at all, but I'm pretty good at pickin' my battles and this one's worth it."

I found his unwillingness to play my games infuriating. I hated myself and I needed him to hate me too. I wanted him to validate my feelings of utter worthlessness or to tell me I was indeed an irredeemably horrible person to do what I did to him and everyone else, but so far he stubbornly refused to and it made me feel even worse than I already did. "In case you missed a memo again, McCoy, the battle's already over." I huffed incredulously. "That's it. Game over, man! There's no future for me on this ship, in Starfleet, or anywhere. I blew it. Don't you get it?" I was baffled that for such a smart man he was being so obtuse about what seemed like such an obvious conclusion.

He patiently continued to play with his fuzzball like he was unraveling the tangled mess I'd become. "Oh, I get it alright." He quietly assured me. "I get that right now things look pretty damn dark to you because you're so far down in that quicksand pit. You've been strugglin' about as hard as you can to crawl out all on your own and you're tired and ready to give up, but I can see options you can't. So," he lightly sighed, "I'll just be right here to pull you out holdin' on to your hope until you want it back." He stated with an air of unshakable certitude.

I hated the fact that he used my own logic and words against me. "Jesus, McCoy. You are the most stubborn person I think I've ever met." I grumbled.

He raised an eyebrow and looked at me incredulously. "Look in a mirror lately? I've seen you nearly fight to the death for everyone but yourself since you got here. Me, Jim, Chekov, Sulu, hell, even Jo. You'll fall on a grenade in a heartbeat for others, but you're as passive as a lamb to slaughter when it comes to defendin' yourself because you've been told most your life you're not worth anything and you believed it." He squinted at me as though he were peering into the very depths of my soul to read my biography which was incredibly unnerving. "You've been to my house, Morgan, you saw how I grew up. I can't pretend to understand what it's like as a kid to go hungry or not have warm clothes to wear. I didn't have to fend for myself or grow up way too fast and I didn't have to get real good at hidin' or ignoring my own pain to survive. I might be a country boy, but I'm no idiot. I know that's probably not even the half of it. Yeah all those things made you stronger, but they also made you believe that you had to work way harder than everyone else just so they'd think you were half as good, but the truth is you're tryin' to convince yourself of that more than anyone. Now as an adult you still think even the smallest flaw will be seen as weakness somebody may exploit, so you'd rather bite down on your own distress until you choke than risk showin' it." His voice shifted to a softer timbre and he gently smirked as he continued. "But you're good at your job because despite it all you still think people are inherently good and deservin' of mercy that you won't show yourself and won't let others give you either. You're happiest when you can shift the focus almost entirely away from yourself onto others. That way you can pretend it's all ok if you can just keep them talkin' the whole time so they don't ask about you. Am I somewhere in the ballpark?" He asked knowingly. When I just glared at him he gave a light shrug. "Just remember who did your job before you came along, darlin'. I never said I couldn't do it. I said I didn't like it."

"You're an ass." I told him bluntly. He said he didn't have the patience for all the touchy-feely stuff as he called it, but the more I was around him the more I realized what others outside of Jim probably never did: it wasn't that he didn't care, he didn't like it because he cared too much. Prolonged pain he couldn't cure in a matter of minutes or hours with medication or surgery was just too much for him to stand.

He smirked wickedly and tossed his plaything aside, no longer amused by it. "And a fine one at that according to you." He repositioned himself to settle in for a nap on the cold, hard floor which made me feel terrible. "Anyway, back to what I'm better at. Let me know if you start feelin' nauseous or the aches get too bad and I'll go get you somethin' for it." Although his eyes drifted shut, he mumbled sleepily, "Wake me up if you need to go to the bathroom. It's gonna be impossible with that thing on." He popped one eye open framed by an arched eyebrow to quickly add, "And before you say it, just remember not too long ago the shoe was on the other foot and I did it, so you have no excuse."

"Apples and oranges." I griped. He just smirked and drifted off to sleep leaving me there helpless and alone with my thoughts which were not nearly as patient or forgiving as he.


	33. Mental Mixtape Madness

Chapter 33- Mental Mixtape Madness

While the damn jacket did allow me to preserve body heat by keeping my arms wrapped tightly around my chest, the cold room did the rest of me no favors and I shivered. I managed to roll onto my side and curl up into the fetal position facing the wall which helped some, but just as McCoy said it would, my body ached down to my very bones and the persistent muscle twitches didn't help matters. It felt like being randomly poked with a cattle prod turned up too high. He told me to wake him, but as I lay there in a miserable heap I couldn't help but think I deserved every torturous second of it. I well knew the symptoms of depression and without the artificial injections of chemical happiness my brain had come to rely on, the pendulum swung violently in the other direction and darkness was all I had left. It felt like being stuck in a tar pit of self-loathing that I couldn't escape.

As I lay in the silence punctuated only by McCoy's soft somnolent breathing, I pulled up a mental playlist in my head. Music had always been a source of comfort and commiseration to me, but in my frame of mind it was as if I summoned a pack of bullies to taunt and condemn me and I couldn't make it stop.

"_The deeper you stick it in your vein the deeper the thoughts, there's no more pain. I'm in heaven, I'm a god, I'm everywhere, I feel so hot. It's not a habit, it's cool, I feel alive. If you don't have it you're on the other side. I'm not an addict, maybe that's a lie." _Of course it was. Amphetamine was my therapist. It always listened, it made me feel better, and there was no judgement- just pure bliss and endless energy. WIth it I didn't feel bad about what I did, what may happen, or who I was. Life held an infinite universe of possibilities that I could see when no one else could. Although I told myself I could stop any time or only use a little I never lied to anyone as much as I did myself.

But it always came crashing down didn't it? The first time it did I was 17 and woke up in a hospital with broken bones after being beaten within an inch of my life, but I didn't tell McCoy the whole story about what else they did because I knew him. He'd figure out how to build a time machine for the express purpose of going back to hunt them down and teach them a lesson about the way a gentleman should treat a lady. Although I'd had close calls before, I never actually overdosed until now and it was every bit as horrible as I thought it would be. Not so much the actual process, but the aftermath. _"When they pumped out your guts, filled you full of those pills. You were never quite right, deserving all the chills. They say the worst is over..."_ I didn't know what all McCoy had to do to snatch me from the jaws of death that threatened to devour me, but I wished he hadn't because being alive hurt worse than laying on the cold floor writhing in a pool of my own vomit.

"_You hold the answers deep within your own mind. Consciously, you've forgotten it, that's the way the human mind works: whenever something is too unpleasant, too shameful for us to entertain we reject it. We erase it from our memories, but the imprint is always there."_ Dammit if McCoy wasn't more or less spot on with his theories about me. I tried so hard to hide any hint that anything might be even slightly wrong from everyone because I was afraid of what they may think of me. I'd spent so much of my life on the periphery I'd learned that the only way to be accepted was to clad myself in mirrors. That way, people would be dazzled by the way I could reflect whatever they wanted to see without actually knowing the real me. I could remain a black box mystery no one gave a second thought about all the while gaining their trust and gathering their secrets. _"I can turn it on, be a good machine. I can hold the weight of worlds if that's what you need. Be your everything." _I really was a slave to my job maybe more than I strictly had to because I was used to suffering in ways others weren't accustomed to. I may have been lost, but I could wade through tragedy to save others from drowning in it.

Even though my own life was a worthless hollow shell to me, the trials and tribulations of others had intrinsic value. I genuinely cared when Pavel's brother died. I desperately wanted to spare Jim, Sulu, and McCoy from the pain they experienced at the Amazon's hands. I wanted to save Meyers more than anything. It pained me to watch Spock and Uhura struggle through the end of their relationship because they were both victims. Even though it went against my better judgement, I tried to help Joanna as best I knew how if only to spare her from retracing my footsteps. And I couldn't bear the thought of Jim's anguish at losing his best friend forever which is what made it relatively easy for me to trade places with McCoy on the Raven even though I was almost certain I would die. _"Just a perfect day you made me forget myself. I thought I was someone else, someone good. Oh, it's such a perfect day I'm glad I spent it with you. Oh, such a perfect day you just keep me hanging on."_ My life had no value to me, but his and everyone else's did. I really thought I had a shot at fitting in, but no matter what happened I always felt an aching distance between me and the crew. I didn't always get their references and I didn't come of age in the world they knew. I may have worn the same uniform they did, but just under the blue fabric I was an antiquated impostor just trying to hang on. _"I'm a creep. I'm a weirdo. What the hell am I doing here? I don't belong here. I don't care if it hurts, I want to have control. I want a perfect body, I want a perfect soul…"_

I did want to be perfect, or to at least make people think I was. Just as one shouldn't trust a bald barber, I felt I couldn't tell anyone I was suffering given the nature of my job. McCoy was the exception but only to a point because he was in a better position to understand the constant battle we waged against pain and illness be it physical or mental that took all we had to give and often left us exhausted. Were it not for him suggesting I get back to work after he unthawed me I surely would have unraveled long before I did. Professional ties were one thing, but he chose to give me a personal reason to do better and be something more than what I knew myself to be. _"See I remember when we were driving, driving in your car. The speed so fast I felt like I was drunk. City lights lay out before us and your arm felt nice wrapped 'round my shoulder. And I had a feeling that I belonged. I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone."_ I remembered the amazing electrifying buzz that flooded my body the way drugs never did the first time we consensually kissed and the warmth of his hand as he held mine while he drove home after seeing his daughter again. It was uncanny the way we could almost hold entire conversations with glances or minute facial expressions as though we could telepathically read the other's thoughts.

"_I am not the only traveler who has not repaid his debt. I've been searching for a trail to follow again. Take me back to the night we met. And then I can tell myself what the hell I'm supposed to do. And then I can tell myself not to ride along with you. I had all and then most of you, some and now none of you."_ But now the magic was gone because I threw it away. He said he'd stay and to his credit he did, but it was likely out of a sense of pity or duty to see to the medical technicalities of my stupidity. He may even try to remain something like cordial after it was all said and done, but if he had any sense of self-preservation he'd banish me from his inner circle if not for himself then for his daughter. She already had one financially manipulative woman for a mother, why should he expose her to a second who sought not money but escape from a life she didn't want to live? The occasional booty call if I was even good enough for that notwithstanding, there was no way he could ever love me again and I didn't blame him in the least. It was best for him to move on with his life and career without me.

Throughout my life I'd become fairly adept at crying quietly so no one would know and I struggled to control my hitched breaths while the hot tears streamed down my face. My brother couldn't stay to help me, officer Mike gave me a second chance which I ultimately squandered, my husband, whoever he was, woke up one day alone and may have died wondering if I simply ran away with another man or was murdered and my body never found, I repaid Jim's kindness with treason, and now McCoy. He said I didn't have to fight alone but he was wrong. I was alone because people either just faded from my life or I pushed them away like a feral beast, but he was right that I was destined to lose. I already felt as though I'd suffered the biggest loss with him so no matter what was to come there wasn't much of me left to care.

I nearly jumped out of my skin when I felt his hand on my shoulder not only because he snuck up on me, but because my hands were bound and I couldn't hurriedly wipe the tears from my face and pretend nothing was wrong. There was to be no hiding, no deflecting, just me and the fiery anguish I couldn't tame for the life of me in his full view. My lifelong streak of never crying in front of anyone had just been shattered. Surprisingly he didn't even flinch at such an uncharacteristic raw display of emotion from me. Instead, he sat on the edge of the bed ignoring his own discomfort and fatigue to gently rub my arm in silent sympathetic support. What was done was done, so I didn't even try to hide the distress that boiled furiously inside me like a red hot cauldron. I unabashedly cried myself to sleep mourning all I'd aspired to and all I lost while he protectively yet unobtrusively watched over me like the good doctor and soldier he was. _"I can hold my breath. I can bite my tongue. I can stay awake for days if that's what you want. Be your number one."_


	34. Truth or Dare

Chapter 34- Truth or Dare

In a lot of ways it must have felt like trying to tame a wild horse to McCoy, or perhaps a stubborn mule. It took a full three more hours after I woke up for me to admit I couldn't hold it any longer and had to use the toilet. It was an indignity to the extreme, but more than that he probably didn't realize that for me having my clothing removed almost against my will while being physically incapacitated was more traumatic than he knew so I had to make a choice: I could allow him to do it and try my best not to have a panic attack, or I could just come clean with him even if the admission was coerced.

"Ummm, McCoy," I hoarsely called while I danced nervously in front of him, my mouth suddenly feeling like the Sahara desert, "I...I can't do this. I umm…" I stammered as my heart began to race.

He squinted at me as though he was trying to read me through our silent channel but was only getting a scrambled signal. "You what?" He asked slowly. "You know it's either this or you'll end up just going all over the place. I mean, I guess I could give you a catheter but believe me you'll like that whole process a lot less." He offered.

"I know, I just...I…" I couldn't seem to pull my thoughts together in a coherent string until I took a deep breath to quell the panic that threatened to consume me. "I'm not comfortable with this." I finally spat out.

He looked at me blankly, clearly not understanding what was happening. "Yeah, I didn't like it either but it's really no big deal. I…"

"No." I nearly shouted. "It is, ok? It's a bigger deal to me because this kind of thing has happened before and I didn't want it to…and I'm just not ok with it." I finally admitted.

It took awhile, but the confusion in his eyes slowly gave way to a horrified sadness when he finally put the pieces together. I never wanted to tell him because even though it happened a long time ago and I knew at least on some level I didn't deserve to be violated even if I was dealing drugs, it always made me feel slightly dirty and broken in a way I didn't want him to think of me as being. "Oh," he sputtered in shock as he nodded affirmatively, "um, ok then." He quickly looked around the room just to be sure there was no one else around to help him with the landmine he just stepped on before turning back to me with a more assured demeanor. "Alright, tell you what. I'll take this jacket off you but only on two conditions."

"Oh, so it's you who has the conditions now?" I pointed out with a small smile to let him know I was grateful despite my anxious sarcasm. I wasn't really sure what I expected him to do, but his reaction was far less dramatic than I anticipated. He surely had questions and thoughts on the matter, but he smartly set them aside for another time to figure out a solution to the more immediate problem at hand.

"Well, you're the one who likes rules so much so maybe you can understand the logic here." He replied expectantly. "I'll take it off only if you let me give you a course of antidepressants just long enough to get you through this."

He looked at me with such cautious optimism it made me smile on the inside even if my face didn't reflect it. So he was going to hold is cards close to his vest and not tell me the whole plan. "And?" I prompted. He was almost as bad as Spock. "I like counting things remember? That was one thing, not two."

He tentatively placed his hands on my upper arms, perhaps now more aware of how I might be sensitive to such things even if I generally wasn't, and looked down at me with a compassionate yet firm expression. "You have to promise me you'll tell me if you think you might hurt yourself. It's kinda the point to all this." He explained gesturing to the jacket that bound me tight like a boa constrictor.

"Fine." I agreed, trying to make it sound like it was a harder bargain than it really was. If he wanted to poke me in the arm everyday and take my word that I'd let him know if I was at risk for self-harm I could do it without batting an eye if it meant I could get out of the damn thing for good, but it certainly wasn't the kind of deal I'd ever cut with any of my patients to be sure. He gave a small grunt and a nod to accept my participation in his scheme and gestured for me to turn around so he could set to work on the many straps and buckles across my back that held me fast. I knew he was taking a big liability risk in doing so, but he apparently found it more palatable than further traumatizing me which was beyond merciful on his part.

He loosened the last buckle and spun me around again to pull the hateful thing off by the shoulders like peeling off a second layer of skin and although the rush of cold air was unpleasant, having full range of motion and use of my limbs again was worth it. He looked to me warily as though he still didn't quite trust me, but grumbled "Alright. Get to it" while he turned his back to give me at least a little privacy. It remained an uncomfortable proposition because he was still only a few feet away, but I knew better than to press my luck by asking him to step outside. I hastily did as he asked and relief was exquisite, but still I nervously noted "People can still see in."

"No they can't." He corrected fidgeting with the jacket while he waited. "The glass is multidirectional. Right now I have it set so they can't see in but you can see out. I can change it if you want to be an exhibitionist though." He teased lightly.

"I'd rather you not." I stated trying as best I could to wash my hands in the tiny sink that dribbled out a pathetic amount of tepid water. There was no soap nor anything to dry my hands with, so I just had to make do with wiping them on my pants.

"Figured as much." He said cautiously glancing over his shoulder to see if I was done and decent before turning to face me. "Besides, you aren't some kind of animal on display in a zoo. I talked to Scotty and he said he'd cordon off this section so his staff won't wander back here, but if his department's anything like mine it can be staffed by adults with curiosities like cats so I didn't want to take any chances."

I forced a small smile and quietly said, "Then thank you and Scotty." I glanced up at him apprehensively to ask, "He knows, doesn't he?" I always had a good relationship with the ship's chief engineer and he didn't seem to be the holier than thou type because he was more than willing to admit to his own foibles, but it didn't lessen the amount of shame I felt.

"Well yeah, darlin'." He drawled matter of factly like it was a forgone conclusion. "He ran the transporters to get you up here and helped Spock and me get you to sickbay. He also put this together all by himself." He said gesturing vaguely to the room that contained us. "It took him a couple of hours to get the glass workin' right, but he managed."

I was a bit flustered he didn't seem to understand the question, but I had to remind myself I was short on patience and he was short on sleep which was a terrible combination for effective communication. I took a deep breath and waited for the anger to subside before trying again. "Of course he knows I'm here, but does he know why?"

I saw a spark of recognition on his face as it clicked and he gave a casual shrug. "Not exactly, but you know he will eventually. Right now he and everyone aside from Me, Spock, and Jim thinks you caught some weird bug and got sick enough to be quarantined." His voice lowered with a sense of inevitability and he seemed as reluctant as he was when it came time to leave with the away team. "But anytime now I'm expectin' to get called to the bridge for a meetin' and you know he's gonna be there so he'll find out." Almost sensing my dread, he took a few steps closer and looked down at me with quiet determination. "I've sat in on quite a few of these before so I have a pretty good idea about how it's gonna go. But no matter what happens you know I'm on your side, right?"

His olive eyes were soft and almost infinite in their compassion and it was so painfully beautiful I had to look away. "I know, McCoy, but as much as you might want to, please don't go out of your way to do me any favors. You know Spock at the very least will question your motivation, so don't give him any reason to think you're anything but impartial and just let whatever happens happen. No matter what you may personally think or feel about what I've done, as an officer I have to take responsibility for my actions so I deserve whatever's coming to me. I know you can't argue with that."

He slowly nodded as he looked to the floor. "No, but I can argue all day and night about what that looks like and I will because this isn't all your fault. Some of it's mine too." He swallowed hard and looked to the ceiling in misery while he put his hands on his hips. "I didn't put all the pieces together at first, but looking back now I should've seen it. I guess I just thought if I was patient and gave you plenty of space and time you'd eventually feel comfortable enough to trust me when you needed to. I knew something was wrong and I should've asked you about it, but I didn't. The hypo missin' from my desk was odd but I thought one of the staff got it for some reason. All the signs were there: the insomnia, workin' long hours, weight loss, mood changes, and lack of appetite but I didn't see it for what it was." He cleared his throat and scowled. "Hell, maybe I just didn't want to."

It pained me to see him blame himself for my mistakes. "This isn't your fault, McCoy." I tried to assure him. I wanted to take his hand or hug him to offer the physical contact that worked so well for him, but I didn't feel I had that right anymore. "It was my decision to use my skills and training to exploit your trust and every one of your weaknesses as well as your position as CMO all for my own purposes. There's no excuse for what I did and there's no way you deserve any blame for this." It hurt to admit it in such stark terms, but he needed to know what a consciously awful person I was and how cold and calculated I really was in my pursuit.

He maintained his irritated expression and held my gaze steadily in silence for what seemed an eternity before he finally spoke in a low voice that warned me whatever he had to say was going to be akin to an ultimatum. "I'm only gonna ask for this one more time, Morgan." He stated emphatically with a squint. "I want you to swear on any and everything you hold sacred that from this minute on you cut the bullshit with me and just be honest. No more evading, hiding, deflecting, or lying. Can we agree that after everything you at least owe me that?"

I bit my lip because the need for impression management was so ingrained in me that it was a hard ask, yet it was a fair one. How many times before had he asked me just to show him some basic courtesy only for me to run away or fight against it? He generally wasn't one to keep score so for him to call out my debt to him was a fairly extraordinary move. In the end it all came down to the fact that I simply had nothing more left to lose. I was already at rock bottom and broke my shovel trying to dig deeper, all the while he was just trying to reach down to pull me out of the quicksand. There was no reason for me to keep slapping his hand away. It was terrifying, but I bravely nodded my assent.

"Good." He muttered still staring at me. "'Cause I have some questions that need answered and you're gonna tell me the truth."


	35. Persistence of Memory

Chapter 35- Persistence of Memory

I sat on the hard bed with my knees curled into my chest, partially because it was cold but mostly because my stomach growled from the hunger that returned with a vengeance yet swam with nausea at the thought of eating. I laid my aching head on my arms and closed my eyes while I waited for McCoy to return. There had to have been a biometric sensor somewhere near the door because it seemed to discern his approach as he left and like any good staff member in sickbay, thought it best to just get the hell out of his way before he had to say something. After it closed, I watched him push buttons in the same general area where Jim nearly punched a hole through the wall in his frustration with me, and the wall rapidly went from transparent to a glossy black opaque. He told me before he left he was going to ask Scotty to stand guard until he got back, but I had to wonder if now that I couldn't see it was just a bluff on his part. I briefly thought about taking off my blue over shirt and tying it into a noose around my neck just to see if he was lying, but in the end I didn't have the energy and after all the lies I told him I couldn't begrudge him one. At least his had good intent.

He had questions alright and they were hard ones. Primarily he wanted to know where to look in my room for my stash. It was his reasoning it was better for him to find it before Spock did if he hadn't already and I couldn't argue with that. Although generally an altruistic act, there was a tinge of danger about all of it for him as well. I hadn't thought about it at the time, but I may have incidentally put his license to practice medicine on the line. A few inventory irregularities here and there were bound to happen, but when large amounts of controlled substances went missing there were going to be questions and as CMO he was ultimately responsible even if he had no direct involvement.

I was just starting to drift off when I heard the door open to announce his return. I picked my head up when I felt something soft hit my shins and noticed he tossed a blanket to me to keep warm but that wasn't all he had. In his left hand was the picture he gave me of us in Chicago he inscribed with the words "You are not alone" on the back. He stuck it to the wall as if to drive home his point by placing it directly in my view as the only object of warm color in the room and a constant reminder.

In his right hand, I noticed the shine of the metal hypo and unlike last time he made no attempt to hide it. "Come here." He urged gesturing for me to get up which I did and gave him my arm without protest. After all, a deal was a deal and if I ever wanted him to trust me again I had to start somewhere. "Nope." He grumbled while he reached up to gently turn my head away from him. "Sorry, darlin', intramuscular's too slow. We need warp speed." I instinctively squeezed my eyes shut and cringed. He paused to no doubt give me a mildly disgusted yet amused look. "Oh stop it. You're just as bad as Jim." He observed lightly pressing the surprisingly warm instrument to my neck. As it softy hissed he mused, "I swear you both are such infants."

It stung only slightly and I was thankful he didn't attack me with it, rather he chose to be a bit more artful as he once put it. "Thanks for the blanket." I half smiled wrapping myself in it's warmth. It was no substitute for him, but it was probably all I'd ever get and so it would have to do.

"You don't even have to fight me for it." He mumbled leaning against the wall across from me next to the picture with his arms folded. He probably meant it as a joke, but it felt a little permanent and I couldn't help but notice he didn't look much better in person than he did in the picture. "I know how cold you get and you're shakin' like a leaf." He gave a slight shrug and added, "Some of it's the withdrawal messin' with your hypothalamus but then again I don't think yours ever did work right." I shrank back into my balled up position and pulled the blanket around me like a cocoon. He didn't need to say it, but I knew that probably wasn't the only part of my brain that was broken. "Anyway," he almost yawned as he launched himself away from the wall and crawled up on the bed to take a seat next to me, "you'll need a dose or two more before the medicine really starts to work and you start noticin' a difference, so in the meantime I'll stay down here."

Sitting only inches away from him felt both wonderful and wrong. It was obviously a voluntary sign of goodwill to put himself in such proximity, but it also made me feel incredibly guilty and sad. I wanted so badly to lay my head on his shoulder or even just snuggle up against him like we sometimes did when watching a movie, but I felt to do so would be wildly inappropriate so I just pulled the blanket around me tighter and lowered my head in misery. "You look tired." I murmured into the blanket. "You should sleep, McCoy, and not down here."

He let his head lull in my direction with his eyes at half-mast. "This is nothin'." He promised me with bravado. "When I was a surgical resident we routinely worked 72 plus hour shifts. It was all gall bladders, phaser wounds, and spleens punctuated by cat naps."

"That sounds awful." I commented sincerely.

He grinned while he raised an eyebrow sarcastically. "Yeah, well that's the life you get when your wife's screwin' your boss."

I couldn't help but chuckle at his dark humor about such a terrible period in his life. "That sounds equally awful."

He broke out into a genuine smile and laughed which was nice to see. "Yeah, guess so, but I think about her the same way I do an inflamed appendix. Maybe it was good for you and served some purpose at one time in your life, but once things go bad you either gotta get rid of it and move on or it'll poison you to death but not before you nearly die in agony."

We sat next to one another in an amazingly comfortable silence before he got up the nerve to glance over to me and ask what I just knew had been on the tip of his tongue since the moment Spock called him to my room. "Morgan," he called softly, "can you tell me what this was all about?"

"What part?" I asked almost desperately. "There's just so much and so many forks in the road that got me here I don't even know where to start. But before we try to retrace lost steps, I want you to always know that it was never anything you did or didn't do." I told him looking him directly in the eyes. "Believe me I know how easy it is to think you should've been smart enough or fast enough to save everyone, but sometimes you just can't. This wasn't you, it was me." I reaffirmed.

He nodded, but I could tell he didn't entirely buy it and I completely understood why. It was hard not to take such a thing as a professional failure if not a personal one especially given our relationship. It was sort of like finding out your partner was secretly a serial killer while everyone else incredulously asked how in the hell you possibly couldn't have had a clue. He lowered his head slightly and sighed. "I get that a lot of it was just a matter of opportunity. I mean, it really couldn't have been easier access and I get the physical mechanics of it all, but what even led you down that road to begin with, especially since it didn't end too well for you the first time?" He wondered.

I knew when I made my bargain it wouldn't be easy to keep my end of it, but I made my bed and now had to sleep in it. "Fatigue. Stress. Loneliness." I shrugged before darkly admitting, "But mostly fear."

"About what?" He asked quietly. "I was here."

"No you weren't." I quickly corrected. "And that was the problem. There was a good amount of time I thought you were dead, but even when Pavel found you and Spock brought you back it was hell day after day watching you just lay there like you might still die at any second right in front of me. Your injuries were so severe I don't think any of us took your survival for granted. Every second felt like borrowed time. I always hoped you'd wake up yet I was afraid you might not, or if you did you wouldn't be anything close to what you were. But no matter what happened I wanted to be there, so I needed to stay awake and the added benefit of feeling euphoric was hard not to fall for given how dark everything seemed at the time." I explained. Even though it felt too forward, I promised to be honest so I swallowed my trepidation and went on. "The thought of trying to go on without you if you didn't make it was too overwhelming. When I tried to sleep I just had violent nightmares, so I tried to avoid it and it was the only thing I could think of. I thought I could control it better than I did." Saying it out loud sounded nothing short of pathetic and cowardly and it made me sick to my stomach.

He quietly watched me the whole time until he finally reached over to grasp my hand while I clenched desperately at the blanket as if it was all I had to protect me. "That makes sense." He consoled before his voice grew dark and confided, "If I'm honest I'd probably drink myself to death in misery if things were reversed. Sometimes the pain's too much to stand so you do what you can to cope even if it'll kill you."

I lightly squeezed his hand, but not too hard just in case I misinterpreted his gesture and he wanted it back. "I'm sure it was no fun for you either." I said gently.

His eyes grew distant while he internally focused on the event. "It wasn't so bad. It was just blackness until I woke up, so I didn't really have any sense of time. One minute I was tumblin' down the mountain and the next I woke up in sickbay. It was all over before I knew it."

His nonchalant reaction struck me as more than just a little caviler, so I turned to him and eyed him suspiciously. "McCoy," I started cautiously, "quite a few things happened. How much do you actually remember?"

He seemed caught off guard or uncertain and my heart sank. "You aren't on duty." He scoffed trying to evade the topic.

"McCoy." I persisted in a firm yet supportive tone, placing my other hand on top of his. "I'm always on duty the same as you. Please tell me what you remember." He probably was technically right. If I was under house arrest so to speak it likely meant I was also more or less suspended from my job, but like Spock I chose to ignore the implication because it was in my interest, and that of McCoy, to do so.

He looked absolutely miserable at having the tables turned on him and scowled to convey his displeasure, but he eventually relented. "Not much, really." He grumbled. "I remember checkin' on Sulu then it felt like the entire mountain turned to Jello and I lost my balance. I remember feelin' weightless for a second while I was fallin'."

"What went through your mind?" I softly prompted. I knew I was playing with fire, but I had to get a sense of his frame of mind to gauge how it might have affected him and something told me he probably wasn't as placid about it as Sulu was when Jim tossed him over.

He gestured in exasperation and raised an eyebrow as high as I'd seen it go. "I went head over ass! I couldn't see where the hell I was goin' and it was goddamn terrifying!" He exclaimed matter of factly. I lightly rubbed the back of his hand to soothe him and he paused to calm himself before continuing. "I heard Jim yellin' at me and I guess it was about halfway down or so I finally realized that was probably it. Truthfully, I was hopin' the next time I hit the cliff it would be head first. If I was gonna die I'd rather it be suddenly from massive head trauma than makin' it all the way to the bottom." His eyes narrowed and his voice was barely audible. "I thought about Jo and all the things I'd miss. I wondered if she'd be a veterinarian after all or who she'd marry. But then I started thinkin' about her when she was younger and how terrified yet amazed I felt the first time I held her or the way she'd come runnin' with a huge smile when I got home. I hoped she'd somehow find a good life even if I wasn't a part of it. That's the last thing I remember before I woke up to see Jim's ugly mug starin' down at me grinnin' like an idiot." He smirked at the memory of seeing his friend's excitement, but it made me feel awful because he didn't know Jim was then immediately forced to lie to him to cover the fact I was passed out in his bed two floors up after a drug binge. He cocked his head slightly and squinted. "So Chekov and Spock, huh?"

"Well, Jim was there too and the three of them uncovered you from all the dirt and debris that fell on top of you. Of course Jim nearly got himself into trouble, so Spock sort of had to save the both of you but he was an absolute boss. It was pretty impressive." I admitted with genuine admiration at the way he just took total charge of the situation without batting an eye.

"What did Jim do?" He asked with a knowing sense of dread like a parent that gets yet another call from the school about their wayward child's behavior.

"You started to wake up. You don't remember that?" I asked gently.

His eyes glazed over while he thought about it. "Yeah, but only vaguely." He replied shaking his head as if to rattle the fuzzy cobwebs of his memory loose. "I briefly remember bein' in excruciating pain, but I must've passed out soon after. I don't remember anyone being there though."

I thought it merciful he didn't recall the whole thing but continued with the story. "Your bag landed in the water and he was going to swim for it, but he had a nasty gash on his leg. Spock nerve pinched him and then just left him there while he swam out to get it. Even after he got back, he just casually strolled past without a second glance and went about his business, but that wasn't even the best part." I informed him gleefully, "He had Scotty beam him up so he'd stay out of the way. Needless to say, Jim was less than thrilled when he realized what happened." I chose not to tell him about his other more extraordinary feat, but he could read about it in the report if he wanted to.

McCoy's face lit up with a joyous smile at the thought of his friend being put in his place. "That pointy eared bastard." He mused. Far from the usual insult, he clearly meant it as a declaration of admiration. "Well, it seems he's the common denominator for both of us bein' here then." He noted with a sense of humble gratitude. "If you need blind luck or chaos you hang around Jim, but if you need to just get shit done in a hurry with minimal fuss Spock's your guy all day long." He glanced over to me and cautiously asked, "Do you wanna know what happened to you?"

"No." I sighed. "You know, McCoy, there's still some things I can't remember since you unthawed me. Some I wish I did, but I know there's probably a lot more I don't and maybe it's better that way. I've lived that life before and I know how those types of things go. I'm sure it wasn't a pretty scene." I paused and debated before I asked, "Do you want to know everything that happened to you?" Between what I told him and his own memories he had a general sense of how things played out, but there was much more to the story.

He gave it some thought, but in the end just shook his head slowly and shot me a sly look. "Nah. You blocked the videos so I'm guessin' it was for a damn good reason." He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and gently pulled me into him to signify he didn't hold it against me.

If I had any doubts before, his gesture could not have possibly been anything but intentional and it soothed my aching soul faster and more completely than the medicine he injected into my body. It was frightening for me to relinquish control and be completely open and honest with him, but after I did he didn't run away or try to use my weaknesses to manipulate or annihilate me as I feared he might. While I expected my ugly truth to push him further away, it had the paradoxical effect of making me feel closer to him when he seemed to understand it on some level. I was certain he was still nursing his own wounds I inflicted and as a result I may not have been completely forgiven, but he wasn't willing to give up and was offering me another chance to redeem myself. In that moment I came to fully appreciate why Jim was so fiercely protective of his friend because while most people saw a crusty dark lump of coal, we knew that deep inside shined a diamond of infinite strength and beauty worth more than all the credits in the universe.


	36. Visitation

Chapter 36- Visitation

I came to understand McCoy's frustration when I couldn't talk him into leaving to sleep in his own bed. Despite all his blustering in sickbay about knowing what option he'd choose, when it came down to it he came to the same conclusion I did. While it was beyond wonderful to sleep in such proximity to him again both for the comfort and warmth, the bed was small and the fight for the blanket was a close quarters combat session like a knife fight in a phone booth which technically ended in a draw. He smartly made me sleep between him and the wall so I couldn't get up without either shaking the bed crawling out the end or directly over him, but it also meant I stayed relatively warm sandwiched as I was and he woke up chilly with the blanket on the floor.

The next morning I convinced him to allow me to shower which meant escorting me to his quarters where I could presumably be closely supervised as opposed to mine where I might have another hypo stashed or perhaps a vial I could pop the cap on and down the second he looked away. In truth he needed it too since he had been in sickbay and more or less imprisoned with me since the incident. As luck would have it, we passed Spock in the hall. McCoy, perhaps anticipating a fight for giving me a reprieve from my confinement, preemptively shot him a warning glare and growled, "Can it, Spock. It's medically necessary. Do you know what happens to your body when you don't maintain hygiene? You have over 1,000 kinds of bacteria livin' on your skin that grow and multiply. Pretty soon your skin starts itchin' which you can't help but scratch making small abrasions that gets infected. After that, the cells swell and die and the whole system breaks down causin' ulcers and gangrene." He sneered. "Beyond that, it's just gross."

The entire time Spock merely stared at him with a blank expression until he finished his rant. He arched an eyebrow thoughtfully and commented, "Fascinating" before turning to me. "Dr. Collins." He stated simply as his perfunctory greeting and farewell all in one while he turned to continue on to his destination leaving McCoy to watch him go with a confused squint.

On the third day he was called to sickbay for an emergency and I assured him I was feeling better, or at least well enough the suicidal ideation had subsided, but he still seemed reticent. Not long after he left, my attention was drawn by movement by the glass wall. I glanced over to see Pavel smiling in his usual relaxed friendly manner and waving to me. I reflexively smiled back at the sight of him and approached. McCoy said he didn't know the truth as to why I was being held on display like a curiosity in a snow globe which made me feel better about the whole interaction. "Hello!" He called cheerily, sounding slightly muffled. "Dr. McCoy said I could come see you." His expression clouded over with concern and he asked, "Are you ok? Ve haven't seen you in avhile."

His compassion was sweet. "I'm getting better." I replied which wasn't a lie. I still had a long way to go to recover, but the aches and twitches were slowly subsiding to bearable levels and the feelings of depression weren't quite as suffocating.

My response seemed to satisfy him and his affect brightened again like the sun peeking through the clouds. "Sulu and Uhura said hello too. They vere sparring and she hurt her knee so ve took her to sickbay, but she probably von't be there long." I was a little confused because it made sense that's where he probably talked to McCoy, but surely a knee injury didn't constitute an emergency- or at least not one that required calling the CMO unless Pavel underestimated the severity of her condition. I was with her when she was sick on bloodwine, but I'd never seen her injured and given her personality I could see her grinding her teeth to bravely get through it no matter what. But if she was his patient, I couldn't see him stopping in the middle of things to have a superfluous chat with Pavel either. In fact, none of it made sense the more I thought about it.

"Hey Pavel," I called sweetly, "could you do me a favor?" I felt a little guilty roping him into my scheme, but I left some vital business unattended that I couldn't tell McCoy about and this was a golden opportunity to see to it. "Could you find a PADD and give it to me?"

He seemed a bit uncertain and looked around nervously. "Ok, but how do I get it to you? I can't come in vith you." He genuinely wanted to help, but was smart enough not to put himself in harm's way. He'd done so before in spectacular fashion to get me off Saren's ship, but that was a rescue mission. This was a far more trivial matter.

"What I have isn't contagious." I assured him. "McCoy comes in and out and it's not like he's immortal no matter what anyone thinks."

He gave a small laugh and replied, "I don't know. He may be." He set off on his errand and soon returned but still seemed apprehensive about climbing into my cage as though he feared the door closing behind him and trapping us both. Rather than risk it, he propped the device up against the wall and opened the door just wide enough for me to grab it and snake it through the crack while he stood at a safe distance on the opposite side.

I held it tight to me and smiled gratefully at him. "Thank you, Pavel. Not only for this," I clarified pointing to the PADD, "but for helping McCoy. I know you're going to say it was your job or whatever, but if you didn't find and unbury him as fast as you did things may have been very different."

He looked down and grinned bashfully. "Yes it vas my job, but you're velcome." He said humbly before returning his attention to me. "I'll come back later if I can. Maybe we can play cards?"

"Sure," I granted, remembering how much fun it was to pass the time with him even though he almost always won, "I'd love that. Tell Sulu I said hello and let Uhura know I hope she's ok."

"I vill." He promised sincerely as he waved goodbye. "Get vell. Maybe Dr. McCoy vill let you out soon." I just smiled and waved, knowing it really wasn't up to him. My fate was ultimately in Jim's hands and although he at least on a few occasions thought enough of me to risk war, he certainly didn't seem to feel that way now.

I powered the device on and signed in to check my messages. My heart stopped when I saw Joslyn replied almost two days before. I hastily stabbed at the screen to open the message and held my breath as I read her words. "Hello, Dr. Collins. I got your message and wanted you to know everything's ok. I'm letting Joanna stay with her aunt for awhile. I didn't think Leonard would mind, but then again he's notoriously hard to please. He's always so hard to reach anyway, sometimes I think he purposely ignores me out of spite so I didn't bother telling him although if you know then I'm sure he does by now too. Phoenix was nice, but it's not my home and it didn't suit me so I came back to more familiar surroundings. You know how it is, I'm sure you get a little homesick out there now and again. I've been reconnecting with old friends and we'll see where it goes."

I lowered the PADD and contemplated her words, but I just couldn't shake the sour feeling deep in my gut. There was nothing specific in her message that gave me pause, it was the tone that strained to convey a false sense of assuredness in the midst of crisis much like she did when I sat with her at the cafe that didn't sit well with me. I set to work typing furiously because I didn't know when McCoy might return. Sometimes he was away on calls for a half hour and sometimes it was a half day or longer. I chose my words carefully so as not to sound accusatory or overly suspicious least my hunch was wrong. "I'm glad to hear you are doing well. Finding a home away from home can be difficult and if you chose to return of your own volition I wish you well. Letting Joanna stay with her aunt while you reconnect is a great idea because she can be well cared for while you take the time to focus on your own needs. Just remember familiarity can be comforting but it can also act as glue binding you to old places, people, and habits. Sometimes our best intentions aren't what's best for us and we make mistakes. I hope you know that no matter what goes on between you and McCoy, I've kept my promise to you in maintaining your confidentiality and will continue to do so. You are welcome to contact me any time if you need help or just need to chat." I hit the send button and stuffed the device under the mattress because I didn't want to get Pavel in trouble.

About an hour or so later I had more visitors, but unlike Chekov I was much less excited. Spock slowly stepped through the glass with his hands behind his back followed by Jim dragging a chair behind him, both wearing stern expressions. "Dr. Collins," Spock greeted in an overly formal tone that served to announce the visit was not a cordial one, "the captain and I have come to take your statement." I swallowed hard but tried to remain outwardly calm. I knew this moment would come, but it felt less like a fact finding mission and more like a firing squad.

"Dr. Collins, do you understand the nature of the current proceedings?" Spock calmly asked. "While it is our hope you will be forthcoming, you are of course afforded the right to decline participation in which case disciplinary action will be summarily decided among senior staff based on the information available to us."

"I'll talk to you." I replied quietly trying to maintain what shreds of dignity remained of me.

It was incredibly subtle, but he seemed slightly relieved I wasn't going to drag things out or make his job difficult for him. "Then we will proceed. As much is already known about the current situation with details that Dr. McCoy will likely provide us later, there remains some question as to your conduct. As you are aware, there is speculation you may have misappropriated medication from sickbay for the purpose of intoxication."

"It's not speculation, Spock. I did." I replied darkly. "I got a hypo out of McCoy's desk, stole the drugs from the closet on multiple occasions, and very often performed my duties while high. No one made me do it, it was a conscious choice on my part. There's no ambiguity about it." I said stoically.

He seemed temporarily caught off guard by my frank admission to such serious charges, but recovered quickly and continued. "And what was your purpose in doing so?"

I thought carefully about how I would respond. "At first it was to remain alert and awake while balancing all my duties, but then it was just to feel normal and after that because I couldn't function without it." I didn't really want to get into it, but McCoy urged me to be honest so I did. "But it was also to cope with psychiatric distress. Maladaptive to be sure, but effective. Things were just easier when I was numb." Since his arrival, Jim had been sitting quietly slouched in his chair with his arms folded looking both annoyed and bored, but suddenly his eyes sharpened and his whole aura shifted slightly.

"Dr. Collins, you are aware that there were other more appropriate resources available to you on this ship if you were in need of assistance, correct?" Spock checked tilting his head. He was no doubt referring to himself because he really did try to fill in for McCoy in his absence.

"Technically yes, but it didn't feel that way at the time." My words may have stung a little, but it was the truth. "Given the nature of my work in very real terms, my options were and are limited. I can't confide in just anyone because it poses an ethical dilemma."

Jim finally had enough and squinted hard at me. "That's pretty hypocritical of you, don't you think?" He all but sneered. "You expect us all to spill our guts to you on demand but you'd rather nearly kill yourself than trust one of us?" He shook his head incredulously and added, "If I didn't have the time, I'd make it for you. Spock and Scotty probably would too. In case you didn't get it by now, Collins, there's no "i" in team here. We have to work together and rely on one another out here or we die. You can't have it both ways."

Spock's dark eyes were utterly human as he looked toward the floor and gave a slight nod in complete agreement. Aside from Sulu I considered him to be the most unaffected by environmental stress, but no matter what anyone thought he too had times of doubt and pain, some of which I'd seen and others of much greater magnitude that he likely needed the support of his crew to get through. If a Vulcan could ask for or accept such help I really had no excuse. Whatever his thoughts that prompted his introspection, he returned his attention to the present and his demeanor resumed a neutral tone. "And on the topic of working together, we are of course aware of the personal relationship you share with Dr. McCoy. Was he at any time or in any manner ever aware of your activity?"

To say we had a relationship currently, or at least one like he assumed we did, felt tenuous but I didn't correct him. "He knew I had a prior history of drug use in my late teens, but I'd been sober for over a decade before I even came here. As for now, no. He had no idea and I worked hard to keep it from him and all of you until the accidental overdose."

"So it was accidental." Spock confirmed in a low voice as if up to that moment he always suspected it was anything but.

"Yes. I probably could've kept my use under wraps for awhile longer but honestly, at the rate I was becoming tolerant of it and the amounts I was using I probably wouldn't have made it to the end of the year. I would've died eventually, but I didn't intend on killing myself that night." I said plainly with no sense of self-pity or even remorse.

"No, you wanted me to do it for you." I heard Jim huff under his breath.

Spock no doubt also heard him, but chose not to acknowledge the fact that I did indeed try to convince him to administer some righteous vengeance that in my eyes would've been an act of mercy. "Thank you for your cooperation, Dr. Collins. That is all the information I require unless the captain has further questions." He stated with a small bow.

"Yeah, I do." Jim said narrowing his eyes at me like a predator about to play with its prey before killing it. "But I'm gonna wait." Suddenly a bad situation became much worse. As if seeing him angry wasn't bad enough, being forced to wait on pins and needles was far more terrifying than if McCoy had 10 arms each with a hypo. He stood and motioned for Spock to follow. "You find Scotty and I'll swing by sickbay to see if Bones is available. Let's just get this over with." His tone was almost weary like I was nothing more than an inconvenience to him and maybe I was. Spock turned to glance at me over his shoulder almost as if he hoped I didn't hold him responsible for what was to come, but nonetheless went forth to carry out his orders.


	37. Parole

Chapter 37- Parole

It could have been hours or days, I couldn't tell. I must have checked my contraband PADD a hundred times only to find my inbox was empty just like me. I curled up on the bed and stared at the picture McCoy left hanging slightly askew on the bare wall. The photograph was like a window into happier times I wished I could crawl through to go back. I had so many regrets at not doing things differently. McCoy looked so miserable and I always thought he was scowling at Pavel, but maybe he was really looking at me as if he somehow knew how much trouble I'd be for him in the future.

I sat up when the door opened to see Jim looking like he was the bearer of bad news. I thought I didn't care what happened to me until that moment when I very much did. He slung his chair around to face me with a clatter that echoed off the bare walls and sat straddling it with his arms on the back with a heavy sigh. He remained that way looking into the distance between us for some time as if he were deep in thought or internally struggling about what he should do with me. Finally he cleared his throat and in a quiet low voice stated, "I know I haven't been as open with you as maybe you wanted, and maybe I've been a bit harder on you than's really fair, but in all honesty I guess I didn't really know you either. I think we're probably more alike than either of us realized." A nervous smile briefly flashed across his face as he went on. "Of everybody here, Bones has probably known me the longest and certainly the best, but the stories you hear about me aren't even half true. I mean, they are," he quickly corrected, "but I mean all the bar fights and stuff that was me on good days. But before I joined Starfleet there was pretty much nothin' but bad ones."

This disciplinary meeting was certainly off to an unexpected start, but I thought I'd play along to see where it went. "Iowa." I almost whispered. He always hinted it was a dark period in his life, but I never could quite get him to talk about it beyond vague hints or innuendo.

"Yeah." He confirmed, his blue eyes laden with echoes of misery from the past. "Our first year at the Academy Bones took me home to his place on leave, but I never took him to mine mostly because I didn't really have one to speak of, or at least it never felt like home to me. No place did. Before I met him, I spent a lot of wasted years just tryin' to find my place in the world and some of those roads led straight to trouble." He looked directly at me and his sincerity was not in doubt. "Collins, I know what it's like to just want to be numb to everything. It's the honest truth that sometimes I'd start a fight hoping the other guy had a knife just to end it all for good. The thought of dyin' on a barroom floor covered in blood and broken glass never bothered me because nothing mattered to me. I had no hope, no future, no sense of direction, and no one to help me find any. But one night the captain of this ship saw through all that and dared me to do better. Today it's your turn."

"What?" I breathed utterly confused. "Jim, I tried to do better and here we are because I couldn't do it." I began to wonder exactly what his threshold for moral turpitude was because if I didn't cross it yet, it could only mean there was no real standard to be a decent officer or even human in his estimation.

He gave me a patient smile and reminded me, "You couldn't do it by yourself, that's true. I told you, people screw up, Collins. Hell, I've screwed up so many times I've lost count most recently almost getting my best friend killed on a bullshit mission, but every time I've had people around to help me out including you. Whether you realize it or not, you had some powerful allies in this fight that won it for you."

"I don't understand." I mumbled numbly before the horror sank in. "Please don't tell me McCoy called in any more favors. I explicitly asked him not to." I moaned dreadfully.

He cocked his head and smirked as if to chide me for ever thinking McCoy would follow such an edict in the first place. "Like you told me, he does exactly what he wants to and he probably would've cashed in more of his chips for you, but he didn't have to. For sure Bones went to bat hard for you like we all expected, but he kept it all above board." He assured me. "He told us a little about your past and he explained how once something like this gets started it's not really a choice anymore. He said injecting the drugs was the fastest way to develop an addiction and the body starts to need it as much as it does food or air, but the real addiction takes place in the mind. He told us it wasn't so much that you were trying to avoid feeling bad as you were attempting to hold it together to keep working for everyone else which is kinda a different take, I guess." He gave me a forgiving grin and added, "This is pretty bad, but it's not the worst thing that's ever happened on this ship- not by a long shot."

"Did someone get murdered?" I asked rhetorically. The only other possibility I could imagine was the ship hosting a dinner and inviting Klingons and Romulans to sit together.

"Almost." He shrugged carelessly. "All of us, potentially. One of Scotty's engineers accidentally did something to one of the coolant hoses and almost caused a warp core breach, but you'll have to ask him for all the technical details. Anyway, the point is you need to make a decision. Space is vast and dark. If you want to give up and resign I'll let Spock maroon you at the next sizeable landmass we come across and wish you luck. He did it to me once and he'd probably do it again for something like this." He stated flatly. "Or, you can choose to pick yourself up and come with us. I've watched you enough not to count you out either way, Collins, but it's up to you."

I was beside myself with mixed emotions. I was happy he wasn't entirely willing to scuttle me, but I didn't feel I was deserving of such mercy. "Jim, why are you giving me this?" I managed to stutter.

He scoffed and raised his eyebrows. "Oh, I'm not giving you anything. You'll have to earn it all again and there will be consequences for this. If you stay, you'll agree to medical supervision which means Bones can and will order random drug tests. Spock didn't think he'd go through with it, and believe me that part of the discussion got real interesting. To say things escalated quickly would be an understatement. It's a real shame you weren't there because we probably could've used your skills." He laughed and shook his head as though it were a wonder any of them made it out of the conference room alive. "In the end, Spock's writing up some code to randomly generate notices on top of what Bones does. If I were you I'd start drinking coffee again 'cause there will be a lot of cups to piss in for the foreseeable future." He warned. "And you also have to work with Bones on the emotional stuff for as long as he says you need it. He didn't say what, but he said there was a whole bunch of history behind all this that led you to relapse, so I'll let the two of you work that out." He waved dismissively. It seemed the complexities of the human mind were about as clear to him as how the ship nearly blew up. Whatever the reason for the calamity, as long as it all worked out in the end, he was happy to delegate cleanup to the department heads. "But in the future you are to check in with him if you need some support. We all know he isn't always available and I get why you might not feel real comfortable with Spock, so I talked to Scotty and he said he isn't much of a therapist but he's fine with pouring you a drink and at least listening." His eyes sparkled with mischief and he chuckled. "To be honest, that was my plan too if he wasn't around either. Let's face it, my style of problem solving isn't for everyone. I'd make a terrible counselor."

It was my suspicion McCoy was likely the architect of the remediation plan and Scotty well made his views known during the last meeting that he was more than willing to defer to his opinion on medical matters, but I just had to know. "And everyone was ok with this?" I asked apprehensively. "I mean, my own issues aside it does present some ethical problems."

"Spock brought that up too, but Bones had it covered. He said if you wanted to tell people about all this it was up to you, but otherwise it was protected medical information the same as any other physical problem which he more than made clear we couldn't discuss with anyone either." He made a disgusted face and mused, "I think he said something about it being like me having a raging case of syphilis. I didn't have to go around wearing a sign saying I had it so you wouldn't have to either." He shook his head in wonder and squinted. "I don't know what his deal is with me and STD's."

I was placed in a precarious position. It was my job to always listen without judgement to whatever anyone wanted to talk about, so if Jim wanted to discuss his sexual health history it was my duty to sit there and nod along even if I didn't necessarily want to, but it wasn't beyond the pale for me to redirect the conversation which I seized. "Most important to me is your stance on all this." I told him. "Ultimately I know you are the final say and if I understand you correctly, you think that as long as I comply with McCoy's treatment plan I can resume my job for people on this ship. But what about you?" I boldly asked.

His eyes darted around quickly in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"You, perhaps more than anyone else, are in a position of constant stress and risk for psychological harm when things go badly, whether it was in your control or not. If you aren't comfortable with me providing services to you, then it's my responsibility to connect you with someone else who can." I explained. "So I need you to be completely honest here. If you don't feel comfortable, I promise I won't be upset about it. I just want to make sure you have access to help when you need it."

He gave a half-shrug and smiled warmly. "The problem was never you, Collins. As I said, we're a lot alike. We both know the value of people taking care of themselves mentally and physically, but we're not real good at doin' it ourselves sometimes. It's not a personal thing with you or Bones, I just..." He made a somewhat sad face and tossed his hands up helplessly to indicate he didn't really have a good reason, or at least not one he was fully aware of, it was just the way things were perhaps out of habit. From what little he showed me of his life in glimpses it was fair to assume up until recently he never really had anyone around who was willing or able to help him when he most needed it, so having the option of timely and thorough assistance from people who genuinely cared was something of a foreign concept.

I nodded appreciatively because I completely understood where he was coming from. "But did you notice McCoy didn't freak out when you told him your suit was damaged? It was because you first promised him you'd be honest with him and then you were." I prompted. "Remember, you get a better outcome with him if you don't make him guess or worry. If you leave him to his own devices, he'll always assume things are much worse than they really are."

"I know," he agreed pointedly with absolutely no sense of irony, "maybe you should try it."

"I'm trying to and it does." I admitted a little sheepishly, still stinging a bit from the blatantly backhand advice. "You know, Jim, I see what you mean about him now. He seems to have infinite patience even when he shouldn't. I know he's a doctor so he has at least some minimal level of obligation in all this, but it's way more than that and I still don't completely understand why."

Jim's eyes lit up and he knowingly laughed. "Uh huh. I could keep you in here for days tellin' you about all the times he stuck around long after any sane person would've said to hell with me." He chuckled and shook his head in wonder at his friend's stubborn tenacity. "Ya' know, after all this time the only thing I can figure is he sees it as a personal challenge to make me a better person or die tryin' and let me tell you, he's an obstinate bastard who hates losing. If he thinks he's right about something no amount of arguing, begging, or beating will change his mind."

"But he will apologize if he's wrong, which is something." I noted lightly. "He's not completely lacking in self-awareness."

He snickered. "I guess, but I think he's only apologized to me once and that was like three years ago." He looked to the ceiling and his eyes grew hazy while he tried to recall the exact circumstances of the anomaly before his face clouded over with suspicion and he sighed deeply. "And I think he was just bein' sarcastic, but that just goes to show he's usually not wrong. Overstated and a little apocalyptic maybe, but not entirely wrong."

My stomach suddenly churned with the distasteful bile of the past, but the opportunity had presented itself and I thought I'd better seize it. "Speaking of apologies, Jim, I owe you one. I realize trying to leverage your loyalty to McCoy to manipulate you into killing me probably caused some distress for you." I looked at him earnestly even though I wanted to flinch under the weight of the sadness they contained. "I know it was wrong on so many levels, not least of which was assuming you were the kind of person who could do such a thing. You've told me about how you feel when people die on your watch, so to try to make you into a murderer was beyond wrong."

He sat quietly for a moment gathering his thoughts before he licked his lips and admitted, "If it weren't for Bones, I would've been happy to let you rot in the brig because I thought you deserved it, but I didn't realize until that minute how bad things really were. I've killed people doing this job and that's something I have to live with, but no one's ever looked me in the eye and asked for it. It was then I knew you were already far more sorry than I could ever make you." His mouth quirked up into a sad smirk. "It was also then I knew how much he meant to you. You didn't care about your own life, but you were sorry for what you did to his. Screwed up and twisted as it was, you thought it was in his best interest and everyone else's if you weren't around anymore but I hope we now know that's not true, right?" He checked with a skeptical squint.

"In retrospect, suicide may not have been optimal," I cautiously agreed, "but I'm still not sold that I'm the best thing for him." I softly admitted.

He sighed and looked to the floor as though he were trying to mentally reassemble the shattered bits of my psyche that fell out of my soul in front of him. "You and Bones will do whatever you're gonna do," he waved carelessly, "and yeah, I can see why you might be worried he won't know when to let go because let's face it, things with his ex is like a wound that won't heal. But I think I can say I know him pretty well. You aren't the first he's dated since the ex, but it never seemed right and it was like watching him try to walk around in shoes that didn't fit. One by one I watched them all end and he was never really torn up about it either, not like he was when you left the ship to go to the Academy and not like now. Wanna know my theory?" He asked with a conspiratorial smile. "You two are both people out of time. Bones is the oldest soul I know. He was totally born in the wrong era- I think he belongs in your world, but you accidentally got shot into the future and despite the odds, you somehow managed to find one another. You two are like puzzle pieces that click and I think he feels like this is the first time anyone's ever really just got him like that, so you do what you want but don't say I didn't tell you what you were up against." He warned playfully.

I found his theory intriguing. We did seem to operate on the same wavelength, so much so it was borderline telepathic at times. I looked away wistfully and mused, "He really is a good man. I just hope I didn't break him."

"Bones?!" He howled incredulously. "I really don't think that's even possible. Once at the Academy I drug him to a bar and a friend of one of his classmates happened to be there. Her boyfriend was a real creep and you know how he his, so she eventually went up to him to ask him for help. You know he's not real good at masking his facial expressions so he's lookin' all concerned and stuff and the mouth breather thought he was hitting on her. Long story short, he nearly got the pudding pounded out of him because fighting just doesn't come first to him, but he finally had enough and laid the guy out with probably one of the best haymakers I'd ever seen. He ended up walking her home for three miles and you know what? He went to work at the clinic a few hours later and even pulled a double shift lookin' like hell." He chuckled at the memory which prompted him to go on with more examples. "This is the same guy who snuck me on the ship and almost immediately went toe to toe with Spock about it back when none of us really knew him and were honestly a little afraid of him. If you remember, this is also the same man who got into it with a Klingon which takes some nerve and yeah he got a concussion out of it, but he walked away from the fight and left the other guy flat on his ass in the hallway." His cheerful mood mellowed somewhat and he heaved a small sigh. "All that to say he might be smarting a little from all this, Collins, but I've been surprised by how tough he really can be more often than not."

I was stunned. "I remember the Klingon, but…" I just couldn't seem to get my head around it, but it did make sense. I remembered how he somehow managed to remain calm and didn't fight back until he had no choice even though he'd been attacked and his back was quite literally against the wall. I also recalled the story he told me about getting suspended from school trying to help his classmate, so the woman he walked home was in keeping with his personality as was the antagonistic relationship with Spock. Deep down I thought he respected his Vulcan crewmate, but it didn't mean he wasn't going to give him a pointed earful if he had an opinion to share.

"You think you know him," he prodded gleefully, "but I lived with him in a tin can for three long years and even today he still surprises me sometimes. Look, Collins, I think we both need to learn to trust him a bit more and maybe each other too when we need help. Deal?" He asked expectantly while biting his lip. It was just as terrifying for him as it was me, but he was at least willing to openly acknowledge it.

"Aye, captain." I nodded with a smile.

A wide grin stretched its way across his face and he slapped the back of the chair with a ringing thud. "Great. Get out of here then." He commanded jerking a thumb toward the open door. His face then clouded over as he stood and he nervously scratched the back of his neck. "Um, you can't go back to your quarters yet, though. We have to have security sweep it first for you know…" He gestured a bit uncomfortably. "I mean, Spock already sort of did and he didn't find anything but it's just protocol. You'll have to crash at Bones' place tonight."

Even though he stayed with me and I thought things were at least heading in the right direction again, it still felt sort of presumptuous on my part. Despite Jim's opinions on the matter, I didn't know where McCoy's comfort level now was with me. He was obviously fine with casual contact, but more intimate gestures had not been attempted so I decided to remain at friend zone level until he gave some indication he wanted more. It only seemed fair that since I made the first move in admitting I wanted to kiss him in the orchard he be allowed to take the driver's seat to decide when, where, and how fast to go from here. Him being in my space felt almost like a medically justifiable need, but the reverse was not necessarily true. "Is he ok with that?" I asked nervously.

He seemed a little surprised like he hadn't even considered it wouldn't be, but his demeanor grew dark and he grumbled, "It probably won't matter. He might be in sickbay all night anyway." Although he didn't say anything more, I got the impression that the emergency he'd been called to was just that and whatever was going on was taking an emotional toll.


	38. Work Release

Chapter 38- Work Release

It felt strange being alone in McCoy's quarters much like it did the first time we were thrown together by Jim's decree as a means of lending credibility to the idea we were domestic partners when escorting the Starfleet brass. I faintly smiled looking at the floor where he insisted on piling blankets and pillows to crash so I could have the more comfortable bed that I just couldn't bring myself to sleep in. In the end we just sort of avoided using the room at the same time if at all such was our discomfort, or rather mine. He seemed to have a much more pragmatic approach to the situation as he usually did. It was almost always me with the hangups.

His room was neat as usual save for some of his clothing scattered on the floor by the replicator. It looked like he had to change in a hurry because it normally wasn't like him to be so careless. The shower was still dewey with water droplets where he apparently had a quick scrub as well, although it was mostly dry suggesting it was several hours ago. I laid my photograph on the table by the bed and noted the neatly tucked sheets and blankets. I wondered how long it had been since he slept in it. Had he at all since the night he sat up packing for the outpost wondering why I didn't want to take the opportunity to share quarters with him away from the ship? It wasn't exactly a shore leave, but still it would've felt something like one to snuggle by the fire to fend off the cold night together after seeing to the day's duties. Once more I felt like his bed was his personal space not to be invaded. At one time I was welcome, but I wasn't sure that was the case any longer. Sleeping in a Jefferies tube sounded viable since I couldn't very well hide out in sickbay.

I occupied my time by taking a long shower and making some dinner from the replicator that I ate in silence. After I was done, I recycled my tray along with his clothing and sat at his desk to read the PADD I usually kept in his drawer. Joslyn hadn't responded, but to my surprise there was a message from Leti. I opened it with burning curiosity and I could almost hear her voice in my head as I read her words.

"Hello! It was nice seeing you again with Leonard. I'm guessing he only called because you prodded him to. As you no doubt know, he's stubborn as a mule but he really does have a good heart. We anesthesiologists and surgeons are the same- we work with people but only when they're not awake and talking so sometimes you have to remind him to be social! Anyway, I'm praying that you, Lenoard, Jim Kirk, and all of you out there stay safe. I know it's unlikely to happen soon, but I hope you all get to come home again. You know you're always welcome here, but tell Mr. Kirk that if he comes the rules still apply- no sneaking alcohol or women into the house! I don't care if he is a hero Starfleet captain now, my house my rules. Before I go, I'm working on teaching Joanna some proper manners, unlike her uncouth mother. I've attached thank you notes she wrote for everyone in the video you all made for her. I swear she watches it every night before she goes to bed and often falls asleep holding her PADD! Would you be so kind as to send them along to Kirk and Mr. Checkoff (not sure if that's spelled right)? I'd send them to Leonard, but if I give them to you I know it will get done! Regards, Leti."

I opened Joanna's note to me and was surprised to see it was a photograph of an actual handwritten pen and paper memo, but I shouldn't have been surprised since it was the medium Leti herself used in the letter I still kept. "Dr. Collins- Thank you for being in my birthday video with my daddy and for trying to make him happy again like you told me. He didn't seem as sad this time, so good job! I'm glad you are his friend. Sincerely, Joanna McCoy." I noticed the closing salutation had been crossed out and rewritten due to a spelling error which for some reason I found sweet.

"Oh, Joanna," I muttered miserably at her sweet sentiment, "I'm trying, but I'm afraid I haven't been a very good friend lately." As requested, I forwarded Jim and Pavel's notes to them and put my PADD down to stretch my aching muscles. The chair wasn't very comfortable and I briefly considered pulling a classic McCoy and making a bed on the floor, but I was distracted by the soft swish sound of his door opening and my heart sank.

He looked like absolute hell and barely took note that I was in the room. He seemed agitated, defeated, and worn out like he'd just walked off a battlefield as the only survivor. He shuffled with the remaining energy he had to the bed where he sat heavily on the edge with a weary sigh and slowly leaned forward with his elbows on his thighs to cover his face like he was utterly exhausted or grieving- maybe both.

His demeanor exuded acute distress that I'd never quite seen from him before. Dynamics and decorum be damned, I mentally clocked in and was up in a flash to sit next to him to get to work. "McCoy," I called to him softly while I gently rubbed his back, "what's wrong?"

He uncovered his face just long enough to glance at me miserably and mutter, "You're up next."

Cryptic as it was, I gathered someone must have died despite all he could do for them. "What happened?" I cautiously prodded. The ship was generally well run with few accidents, but when they did happen the potential was catastrophic.

"I read your notes, so I know you saw them." He murmured despondently letting his hands fall away from his face. "Reynolds and Keane?" He prompted before his eyes became distant and full of tortured regret and he looked away. "I tried everything I could, but I lost them." His voice dropped to a barely audible whisper as he slowly shook his head in desperation. "Every last damn one of them."

I sighed in commiseration with him. The scientist and engineer I met with had apparently been the emergency he was called to and it seemed nature made the decision they were unable to bring themselves to. They were concerned about losing one life, but all of their hopes and dreams were now gone which left McCoy in the middle of it all and feeling as though he failed them. He'd lost lives before, but this seemed to be hitting him particularly hard. I now had multiple patients on my schedule to attend to, but McCoy would have to wait. Miserable as he was, he could cope until I got back but they were lost in a black hole and had to come first. "I'll go see them and then I'll come back, ok?" I promised. He nodded numbly and continued to stare into the near distance. I just knew he was replaying everything in his head over and over looking for the one small thing he might have done that could've saved them.

Sickbay was abnormally subdued. Staff went about their business as usual, but I could see the sense of sadness and loss in their eyes. They were used to bathing in the blood of their comrades, but this was a different situation entirely. The death of children had a way of underscoring our own mortality and sense of justice in the world. It often left people anguished at the extinction of a promised future in ways that aren't afforded to adults who had the luxury of choice and freedom. Keane had been sedated and was sleeping as peacefully as medical intervention would allow, but her partner Reynolds was sitting next to her holding her hand intently much like I spent many hours next to McCoy almost willing him to survive his calamity. I quietly squatted next to her and placed my hand on her shoulder to let her know I was there if she wanted me to be. She looked to me and her deep brown eyes filled with tears as she began to sob and instinctively reached up for a hug in a bid for comfort. I obliged her and didn't say anything for the hour or so she held to me and cried mourning her loss. Sometimes there were no words for such deep and abiding suffering so I didn't offer her any, I just tried to remain present for as long as she needed for me to be.

"I'm sorry." She smiled embarrassed gesturing to my shirt soaked with her tears once she was spent.

"Don't worry about it." I confidently advised her. "I'll come back with a new one tomorrow to check on you, but if you need me before then ask someone to page me." I instructed, giving her a final pat on the shoulder.

"Ok." She promised sniffling, but reached out to grab my wrist before I could go. "Will you see Dr. McCoy?" She asked expectantly.

I glanced over to Keane. "Did you need to talk to him?" I inquired assuming she had some medically related questions.

My offer seemed to fluster her and she waved it off. "No, no. I was just hoping you could tell him thank you." She replied sincerely drying the remainder of her tears. "Tell him we know he tried his best." I smiled and nodded to indicate I would give him the message, although I wasn't sure how well he'd receive it.

I entered my code to gain access to McCoy's room and wondered if I should have used the chime and waited for him to answer, but I did tell him I was coming back. Indeed, he was stretched out on his bed looking miserable although not surprised. "That didn't take long." He observed, taking a drink from a bottle while he squinted at my soaked shirt. I couldn't help but be struck by the fact that what he was doing wasn't much different than my drug use, except his was more socially acceptable.

"There wasn't much to do." I answered sitting on the edge of the bed facing him. "I'll have to wait for the shock to wear off before we can start working on processing the grief." I gestured to his bottle and quietly observed, "I see you've been busy." He looked down to his hand that held it and made a noncommittal grunting sound as if to absolve himself from any responsibility. "Reynolds told me to tell you thanks. She knows you tried." I told him softly. His only response was to snort sarcastically and take another drink. "McCoy, she doesn't blame you and you shouldn't blame yourself. They knew the risks and you gave them the best shot they had hope for, but it's not your fault it didn't work." I consoled reaching out to place a hand on the arm that held the bottle to gently discourage further consumption. I leaned forward to grab the photo that rested on the table next to him and held it up for him to see while my expression quietly told him I meant it.

He lazily viewed it and then looked to me with a sly smirk. "No fair," he complained although he willingly handed me his liquor, "that's cheatin'."

"I think I've proven to you by now I'm willing to do whatever I have to." I said somewhat darkly. "Did Jim tell you I had to stay here tonight?"

He smiled faintly and patted the empty space on the bed next to him. "Yeah, but I'd like to think you're stayin' because you want to, not because you have to, darlin'." He drawled sweetly. By the way, they won't find anything. Spock didn't either 'cause I beat him to it." He sniggered as if the thought of pulling one over on his nemesis gave him great pleasure before he grew slightly more somber. "I'm glad you were able to be honest with me about where to find everything even if you didn't want to, but I know why. You were off about how many empty vials you had by about a magnitude of five." His eyes grew soft and he seemed consumed by misery of what could have been. "Seriously, Morgan. You don't know how dangerously high those doses must've been for there to be so many. I don't know how in the hell you didn't overdose before you did."

"Me either." I admitted quietly. "Just lucky, I guess. Same as you."

I changed into my pajamas and climbed into the bed next to him. It wasn't terribly late, but we were both exhausted so like the old folks we were, we went for lights out. In the darkness I felt him reach for me and gently pull me towards him, an invitation I gladly accepted. I laid my head on his chest and listened to his heartbeat lulling me to sleep while he ran his fingers through my hair. It felt divine, but internally a vicious truth that lie deeply buried was clawing at me and needed to be freed. "Leonard," I softly called looking up to him, "I know it doesn't mean much, but I'm sorry for everything I did to you. You had enough to deal with and I know through it all you were probably confused, hurt, and scared, but you didn't deserve any of it. You've shown me nothing but kindness and patience even though I made it hard for you to do, but you didn't give up. You're a good man with a genuine heart and I'm sorry I caused you so much fear and pain. I know I deserved all of the bad things that came with my addiction because it was by my own choice, but it was worse for you because it was thrown at you to deal with and you had no say in any of it."

He blinked slowly throughout while he listened, but gradually a small smile graced his lips and he purred, "You know better than anyone that everyone's got skeletons in their closet, Morgan, including me. But I'd be a sorry doctor if I gave up easily on people who were hurtin' and needed help and besides, it's not a contest, darlin'. None of it is. It's just one of those for better or worse things." He tipped my chin higher and leaned in closer to softly kiss me in acceptance of my apology which he plainly did not think was worthless. The same wondrous mix of emotions and sensations I felt the first time surged through me making me feel as though I were high again and the one who had been drinking too much. He wrapped his arms around me tighter and rolled over, seeming to find energy he didn't know he had to give to me. After so many days and nights of endless darkness and miseries, we both needed the healing comfort only the other could provide and we lavished in the each other's gentle kisses and soothing touches until we were once more whole again and drifted off into a deep, peaceful sleep in a tangled embrace.


	39. Afterburn

A/N: And here were are, we have reached our final destination. Hope you all enjoyed the ride and safe travels no matter where your journey takes you!

Chapter 39- Afterburn

I couldn't help it. As we took the short ride down from McCoy's room down to sickbay all I could do was stare dead ahead, my mind spinning in cycles of panic and calm. My anxiety and guilt kept popping up faster than I could quell it like playing a perverse game of whack-a-mole. McCoy hadn't said much while we were getting ready for the day, but he kept venturing glances in my direction until he finally squinted and cautiously asked, "You gonna be ok?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" I mockingly asked him remembering how he looked on his first day back. "It's my own damn desk."

He sniggered at the inside joke, but quickly recovered and in a softer tone he reminded, "You know you don't have to go back right away if you're not ready." He stopped the lift and turned to face me. "Look, I can give you a medical advisement and no one will have the balls to ask me about it, believe me. Morgan," he placed his hands on my arms and compassionately said, "I know sometimes we have to keep workin' no matter how we feel, but this isn't one of those times. If you need another day or two to get yourself together, you know all you have to do is tell me and I'll help you." He looked at me intently to finish what he didn't want to give voice to: _This kind of thing is what got you in trouble to start with. You said you'd be honest, please don't lie to me again._

"I know you would," I quietly replied, softly smiling, "but I have to. I told Reynolds I'd check on her today and Keane too if she's awake."

His eyes grew dark like a storm was rolling in and he grumbled while he lowered his head. "Yeah, me too." I knew that in his head he realized the tragedy was not his doing and was just a statistical probability of the limitations of the human body, but it seemed he was listening to his heart which still didn't seem to understand any of it beyond the profound sense of loss.

Now that he'd given me my access pass to his personal space back, I used it to sidle up close to him to wrap my arms around his waist. I raised my eyebrow slightly and cautiously asked, "Are _you_ going to be ok?"

He glanced at me briefly, but looked away and grumbled miserably. "Gonna have to be. It's not always easy, but it's my job. You know how it is."

"I do." I agreed, leaning in to fully wrap him in a supportive embrace which he returned. "It seems we both have hard work to do. Let's agree then that today may be the first time we have to fully make use of the check-in system you created. Deal?" I asked. In truth my offer really was more of an invitation for him to talk to me professionally because I knew it was going to be a tough day for him probably more so than me, but I also wanted him to know that I was equally in agreement and willing to be compliant with the remediation plan he knew I needed.

He seemed to get the subtext of my suggestion and coyly smiled at me as though up until that point he still had some doubt as to whether or not I would take advantage of his plea deal. "Alright," he agreed congenially, "then let's also agree to get the day started off right then, shall we?" He bent down to kiss me and I was both thrilled and surprised at his gesture because even though we were behind closed doors in the lift, it still felt a little public and my suspicions were verified when I heard the soft hiss of the doors open.

Jim simultaneously looked startled and amused, but he held his breath as he entered holding a small black box with the Starfleet insignia in shining silver. He looked to the floor uncomfortably under the weight of McCoy's glare that just dared him to say anything about what he'd just witnessed. He really did try, but he just couldn't help himself and he ventured a sideways glance at his friend and muttered, "I was wondering why the lift was taking so long." He smiled slyly and broke out into a nervous chuckle.

McCoy rolled his eyes and sighed. "Oh stop being such a school girl, Jim. We're not workin' and let's face it, I've walked in on you doin' far worse things I really wish I could unsee. Until I met you, it never would've occurred to me to use chocolate sauce and a phaser like that." His expression clouded over with mild disgust which left me wondering exactly what happened.

Rather than serve as a warning, it seemed to make him laugh harder. "Looks like you're working on something to me." He disagreed. "And for the record, you ignored the universal sign of the sock tied on the door handle, so any mental trauma you think you got from it is your own fault."

He shook his head incredulously and snarked, "It was the second week, Jim, and by that time the only thing that was universal about you was that you were a bit of a slob, so leavin' a sock layin' around didn't carry any particular significance."

"C'mon, Bones!" Jim pleaded. "You went to college. Tell me you didn't know what that meant! Everyone knows what that means!"

McCoy leveled a blank gaze at him and flatly reminded, "I only lived on campus my freshman year. The rest of the time I was either by myself or married with a kid so I missed out on all that frat house stuff." He didn't seem bitter about it, but there was a definite ring of sadness in his voice suggesting it wasn't the happiest of times for him.

Jim nodded somberly and cleared his throat. "Yeah, forgot."

Never one to miss an opportunity to be somehow both biting and forgiving, his eyes softened somewhat and he mumbled, "Well as long as you're on a forgettin' streak, how about you try to forget about this too?"

He looked to his friend and nodded, but it seemed the nonverbal communication McCoy and I sometimes spoke in wasn't exclusive to us. In the split second that passed between them I got the distinct impression Jim was agreeing not to tell anyone, but he was actually happy for him and wasn't sorry he witnessed the event. For his part, McCoy seemed to thank him both for his discretion and his personal support and it was a beautiful thing to watch. The two of them seemed to be bound together by a long shared history of trouble and triumph that ran deeper than most family bonds, which neither seemed to have much of making them more like brothers than anything else.

Still, like brothers there was always an element of good natured teasing and as we exited the lift on deck 5, Jim quipped "Just don't let me catch you locking more than lips, ok?"

McCoy waved him off dismissively, but couldn't hide the small smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. We went to the office to take a few minutes to have a coffee and steel our nerves before the clock signaled the start of the workday, but Jim hovered by the door which caught McCoy's attention. He sat as his desk and squinted hard as he irritably asked, "Are you gonna tell me what's eatin' at you or you gonna make me guess?"

He sighed heavily and seemed somewhat sad as he presented the box to his friend. "This came for you." He explained as though it were orders for his execution. "It's a commendation for valor for what you did to save Sulu down on the planet."

McCoy initially sat back in his chair like Jim shot him before he slowly leaned forward and sighed into his hands that covered his face. "Goddamn it, Jim. I didn't do anything and from the way it sounds, I'm the one who needed savin'. Besides, Sulu wasn't dyin' up there. He was in a world of pain, but his injuries weren't life threatening." He gave a small toss of his hand toward the box and nearly pleaded, "Can't you just give it to Spock or Chekov or literally anyone else?"

"Nope. It's on your record now, but I know how much you hate these types of things." His voice grew heavy with sympathy despite his feelings about it all. "I'm not gonna drag you out in front of the entire ship, Bones, although I do think it'd be nice for the crew to know you went above and beyond because that's the kind of officer and person you are."

"I don't need a flashy bit of metal for that, Jim, and I don't need people salutin' me." He wearily retorted. "All I need is for the people we have left on this ship to be present and accounted for at the end of all this. If I can manage to do that, it's good enough for me."

"I know." Jim softly agreed placing the box down on his desk with a sense of inevitability before clearing his throat uncomfortably. "Anyway, on behalf of Starfleet and as the captain of this ship, it's my honor to present you with this for your act of bravery in the face of danger resulting in great injury to yourself in order to save a member of this crew." The formality of his scripted speech rang hollow amid his obvious sadness at his friend's stubborn refusal to accept any recognition for his courage and sacrifice.

McCoy glanced up to hold Jim's gaze with a resigned yet semi-sarcastic expression while he slapped his hand down on the box to slide it across the desktop and into an open drawer which he then pointedly slammed shut.

Jim nodded in acceptance of the situation even if it wasn't what he hoped for. "Ok then." He noted placing his hands on his hips while he looked to the floor. "Look, Bones, all this aside I do want you to know a few things. First, you were right and I should've listened to you. Second, no matter what you think, it was pretty badass of you to do what you did. I wasn't surprised because it's just sort of who you are at your core which is why I feel pretty good about your chances of gettin' us all home safe." He paused to lick his lips nervously before looking back up to him and sincerely stated, "And finally, I'm glad you're here, Bones. You're one tough son of a bitch and what happened to you was sorta my fault. I screwed up and you had to nearly pay for it with your life which wasn't fair, so I owe you pretty big. If you don't want the commendation I get it, but how about a golden ticket?" He asked hopefully. "You name it and I swear I'll try my best to make it happen. No limits, no expiration date." He promised.

McCoy sat quietly for what seemed like an inordinate amount of time, but eventually he gave a small, tight nod. "Thanks, Jim, I appreciate you sayin' that but you know it wasn't all your fault and I don't blame you. Still," he arched an eyebrow and slowly smiled a deliciously wicked grin, "a chance to absolutely and forevermore own your ass? Oh, better believe I'll take it." He stated decisively. "Hell, for that you can sign me up for more away teams. I'll take my chances."

Jim shot him a sly smile. "Now you're just being greedy."

"Like a pig in slop." He confirmed waving toward the door. "Get out of here. Don't you have a ship to run or did you plan on hangin' out down here and bein' a pain in my ass all day?" The ease and grace with which he was able to give Jim and I the forgiveness we so badly needed was a thing of absolute beauty and a testament to what kind of man he really was.

I watched him go a happier man now that he'd been absolved and it was a feeling I well knew. "So, chocolate sauce and a phaser?" I asked curiously.

His eyes darkened somewhat as he frowned at the memory. "He's a real out of the box thinker which can be great when there's asses to be saved, but sometimes he can apply it to asses in other less helpful ways if you know what I mean." He explained with a sense of distaste.

I didn't quite know what he meant, but I also knew better than to probe deeper. After all, we were trying our best to get through the day intact and it all just sounded like to much to process. Perhaps he wasn't kidding when he said it left him traumatized. "Ready?" I asked resigned to the task that lie ahead.

"Yup." He grumbled with miserable determination. "Go team McCoy." He added with a small smile as he stood up from his desk. "Did it ever occur to you we're kinda a one stop shop? Medical and mental for whatever ails you."

I laughed, at least happy he seemed to be in a somewhat better frame of mind about it all. "Are you suggesting we retire from Starfleet and open a private practice?"

His eyes grew warm and his expression softened with genuine happiness as he gestured to the room around us. "Leavin' all this behind and goin' back home to open a small practice in the country's my dream." He confessed. "I know you don't like the heat, but you get used to it. I'll tell you what, I'll even plant an orchard of peach trees for you so you could have your heart's content."

"Think you could cash in your ticket to make that happen?" I asked playfully. I might not have cared for the climate, but the brief experience I did have of the place associated all manner of magical things with him and peaches.

"Nah. Jim's got some pull with Starfleet and his luck is incredible, but it's not nearly enough to convince them to sell me my ass back at half price." He chuckled. "Like it or not, I'm in for the full ride I signed up for and then some, 'cause I'll have to wait around for your time to be up too."

"No you don't." I corrected. On the one hand it felt a little patronizing like he felt he had to supervise me and my career, but at the same time it was telling he conceptualized it all as part of his long term plans as though we'd still be together so far in the future.

"Yeah I do!" He disputed with mock hurt. "You know how my brain works, Morgan. Do you honestly think I'd get a minute's peace knowin' you were out here with Jim and all that entails without me bein' here to clean things up?" He approached to place his hands on my arms and smiled down gently as he purred, "Besides, you're the one who needs a psych eval if you think I'd want to live alone while you finish puttin' in your time. I might not like it out here, but bein' in hell with you is better than bein' in paradise alone."

"Mmmm." I hummed appreciatively. "That's some real strong southern charm you're casting there, mister."

He cocked an eyebrow slightly and looked at me skeptically. "Is it workin'?" He asked unsure of his mesmeric abilities.

"More than is fair considering I have a full workday and can't do anything about it." I groused flirtatiously. "Now I'm just frustrated."

His murky olive eyes sparkled deviously and he lowered his voice to a sensuous growl. "Good," he mused, "now you just hang onto that all day and let it simmer. By the time we get off work it'll be good and ready to enjoy."

The day was going to be even longer than I imagined, but I was grateful for it. My future was still fraught with peril, but at least thanks to McCoy and the rest of my peers I had a path forward. Through hard work, forgiveness from others and of myself, and persistence one day I might regain the ground I lost. McCoy was right, space was a vast expanse of disease and danger wrapped in darkness and silence, but I had the good fortune of traveling through it within a protective bubble of warm light and life.

The End


End file.
